Order & Chaos
by HollyJane99
Summary: When you're in this profession, order is everything. When everything goes wrong and you lose control? That's when all Hell and chaos ensues. When the job goes horribly wrong for Roach, he ends up in what he would literally define as Hell. Will he survive? Escape? Recover? WARNING: Strong language and graphic scenes. Will Possibly contain Male/Male later on.
1. Man Of Not Many Words

**_A/N: Hi all,_**

 ** _This fic is set a bit before the game and is intended to be quite long! I have already started on the next chapter, which will have A LOT more action. So hopefully someone will like it! I haven't written much, but I've been working on the story line for a while. Sorry if it's absolute shite though, being my first real work i'm terrified no-one will enjoy it. Also, I swear the next chapters get more interesting!_**

 ** _Please Read and Review - good or bad, I don't care, constructive criticism is always welcome._**

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: Classified_

 _Date: November 26_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 0305 HRS_

His legs felt like lead, and every breath felt as if the oxygen was grating against his lungs; a harsh reminder he should probably get his ribs checked out before passing out in bed, or wherever he collapsed at this rate. Judging by how he felt, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Though, Gary honestly didn't care by this point, he was just glad to be back at base. _Fucking_ glad. He realized his ankle hurt something awful too, probably sprained it or something. Who knows. Who _cares?_ He wanted bed _._

He, and several other members of the multi-national, conglomerate Task Force, had just returned from one of the longest, and most grueling "missions" faced since being actually selected into the 141. Kazakhstan was bloody cold. Between the -14 degree weather and the not so warm camping gear and protective clothing, Gary was convinced hypothermia was an issue too. Not that any of the men would ever complain out loud about that, too much fear of getting called a wuss _and_ a hypochondriac by the higher ups who don't give a crap about us. _Our masculinity complex will probably get one of us killed one day,_ he mentally smirked to himself whilst walking through the empty hallway alone. He really didn't want company right now. At least he thought he was alone.

"What's tickin' in that brain of yours, mate?"

A familiar Cockney accent protruded his innermost hypothesizing. Making him jump a little in surprise. _Perceptive,_ he criticized mentally before sighing. Sadly he wasn't alone.

"Nothing, really. Bed."

At that Simon, or better known as by most - Ghost, snorted, nodding in understanding. Ghost sure as hell was picking his moment to converse, he just wanted to bloody sleep.

"Man of many words aren't ya Roach? Heh, I reckon I've never met someone so hard pressed for words at times as-"

"Rich coming from an apparition such as you, Ghost. Really. I don't mean to ruin your little soliloquy, but I'd rather like to go to bed now, if you don't mind."

He interrupted snarkily without thinking. At least he used big words, which was an ongoing joke for the two of them - the butt of it being the lack of vocabulary used by him, himself. Not that he wasn't "smart", he just didn't talk much. But the tone of his voice didn't do much to help. Fuck, Ghost was really going to admonish his ass after an insubordinate outburst like that. _Oh Fuck, I'm so tired._ Ghost must have seen the regret in the usually incorrigibly, quiet man's face, because he just smirked understandingly and gave a rough pat on the shoulder.

"Get some rest Roach, ill see ya in the morning mate. Or later." He smirked, remembering their "temporary" room arrangement, courtesy of hideous weather and lazy renovators. "Don't forget to pay medical a visit too, can't beat me in PT like that Bug."

"Thanks." He feigned a glare.

He sighed as the Lieutenant briskly walked off towards the officers area laughing at something, or so he presumed he was heading there at least, unlucky bastard. Probably had tonnes of paperwork after that bloody shitbag of a job.

He was fucking lucky Simon was a good bloke, and a good mate over the past few months too. Held him in the utmost reverence. After the death of his Mother, he had been surprisingly supportive towards the reserved, yet benign Sergeant. After getting to know a bit about the man and his undeserving nefariously besmirched past, Gary was starting to have an idea why, but still. Why him? Granted Ghost and he had always gotten along quite well compared to most, but it was still a wonder. He wasn't exactly the best person to be around these days and he barely spoke to anyone. It wasn't that he disliked people around him, he just didn't have much to say - he was never really given the opportunity to speak his mind openly. couldn't much be bothered to change. Then again, he supposed the older man wasn't too dissimilar from himself in that respect. Two sides of the same coin and all that. Well except Simon spoke his mind without much thought, that was pretty much their only difference. _Oh well_.

He tripped over something that was probably only there due to his exhaustion, causing him to grab his ribs that protested at the movement.

 _Can I even bloody make it to the infirmary right now?_

"Maybe ill just get Doc to check me in the morning…" he mumbled, he was way to tired to actually care right now. Bed was all that mattered.

* * *

 _LT. Simon "Ghost" Riley_

 _Location: Classified_

 _Date: November 26_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 0431 HRS_

MacTavish had kept the debrief to a minimum, thank god. _Bloke probably wants to go to bed just as much of the rest of us._

He had pretty much wrapped up what paperwork he was required to do right now, albeit after what felt like forever. Was probably all wrong but he didn't give a shit at the moment. It could be worse he supposed… He shuddered. No, he couldn't go down that line of thinking right now - his past was staying right where it belonged; in the past. He hated the lack of control he had over his thoughts when he was tired, especially with the remaining vestiges of Roba that just refused to leave his mind. Most of the time he could exercise full control, but after such long hours… a heavy sigh left his dry, cracked lips.

"Perhaps a distraction is in order."

He grabbed his cigarettes from the drawer of the work desk, standing up, he headed outside hurriedly to avoid complaints such as;

" _stop debauching me with your bloody cancer sticks, you'll kill us all!"_

 _Yes, Harriet, you old hag, I'm referring to you._

He never had liked that woman, she was… off. Condescending; supercilious, yet always going about work in such a languid way. He wondered how she still had her job as a nurse to be honest after replaying a memory of last time he saw her treating a soldier. _Poor Roach, don't think he's been back in there since. Willingly, at least. Heh, Wonder if the kid actually went there like I told 'im to._

That brought attention to his previous conversation with Sanderson.

He liked the kid, he was smart and talented; does good work out on the field. Doesn't die. _Heh._ He was one of the only men who Simon actually considered a mate; a brother. This was a very rare thing as empathy made him uncomfortable. He tended to avoid friendship like the plague. Somehow the bloody Sergeant seemed different to everyone else though, he wasn't bothersome. Sure he was a kid, but something about his intelligent brown eyes intrigued him, brought himself in enough to actually initiate conversation which was a feat in itself. He was pleasantly surprised with what he found after pushing to find out more from the ever quiet man. Not so unlike himself at times. Gary was smart, and if you got to know him well enough, funny.

But the Sergeant seemed out of sorts as of late, not enough to warrant much concern, but different nonetheless. Perhaps more taciturn than usual. If that was possible. He made a mental note that he should probably check on him in the morning, bloke bodged himself up pretty bad avoiding an RPG fire in a multi-story building they were taking sojourn in. _God forbid everyone knows no-one 'ere will ever actually ask for help when they need it._ _Oh well, he's not bloody dead yet. Name Roach is definitely bloody veracious._

He stood up and put the remnants of the cigarette out with his dirty combat boot clad foot and headed back into the barracks, a million thoughts running through his mind. Hoping 7 am PT wouldn't be happening today being one of them. God he hoped the Captain never found out what his Lieutenant was thinking most of the time. He'd surely lose his job. Oh well.

 _Right, off to bed now. Its been a long few weeks._

He finally made it to Gary and his shared quarters, due to "maintenance", and hoped into bed, not bothering to get changed. He didn't care, he'd slept in worse. He often had trouble sleeping still, but suspected sleep would come easy that night.

* * *

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: Classified_

 _Date: December 14_ _th_ _, 2015_

 _Time: 0700 HRS_

 _Beep. Beep. Beep…_

"Eughhh"

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._

"FUCK OFF!"

Gary smacked his alarm as viciously as one could from barely 4 hours sleep after weeks of being awake almost constantly, successfully dulling the obnoxious beeping sound. Sighing, he rolled back onto his bed, fully prepared to accept any reprimand for being late for training today. He couldn't imagine the Captain would force it on them today anyway. An amused chuckle caught his attention to the other side of the small room. _Simon. Right._

"Hey mate, was bothering me too."

"Yeah."

"Tired?"

"Yeah."

Ghost chuckled, Gary was grateful he wasn't affronted by his concise responses. He didn't mean to be rude, he was just quiet.

"Come on mate, get your arse up and dressed. Well grab coffee and ill come with ya to the infirmary. I quite enjoy bickering with the bitch, gets so riled up." he snickered, "plus MacTavish can't tear you a new one if I'm there." He added, winking at him.

"You flirting with me?"

"Holy Crap mate, was that a joke? Never thought I'd see the day."

"I'll take that as a yes then."

"Sorry to disappoint then, but I prefer blondes." Ghost got up and ruffled his somewhat short, curly, chocolate brown hair which earned a glare. "C'mon. Move it."

"Hilarious."

I'll bet he wants to avoid training too.

Not that Roach minded - he hated the infirmary and would much prefer to not go there alone. He stood up, ribs protesting at the movement, he just hoped the Lieutenant didn't notice. Wishful thinking, he knew - _Simon sees everything._ Gary could tell by the piercing look he received from perceptive blue eyes that he was right, but the ever stoic man chose not to make any remark. He was grateful.

He half limped to the mess hall, which Ghost ribbed him about the whole time, calling him old. Gary merely reminded his superior of the 8 year age difference between the two. That quickly shut him up, _if only the shitty coffee machine worked as quickly_ he mused whilst waiting for what was considered liquid gold to the soldiers. The machine finally finished and he poured two full mugs full for them and sat down across from the other man, sliding the beverage to Simon.

"Thanks mate."

"Mmm."

"What's goin' on with you mate?"

"huh?" Discombobulated, Gary frowned; he honestly didn't think he had acted any differently lately.

"You heard."

"I did and I'm still confused."

"What about? I'm asking you what's wrong, you barely talk and I've seen you smile, what - 3 times in the past month? That's not healthy mate, and I order you to tell me what's goin' on, not only as your superior, but as your mate."

Gary sighed. _Shit, I'm fine, why the hell does he care?_

 _"_ I'm fine Simon, alright? You barely smile and most people don't even know your name, so…"

"Touché."

He spent a good few minutes just pondering how to ask why this even mattered, this really wasn't his strong suit. Finally, he decided on the candid approach.

"Why?"

"Huh?" Now it was Simon's turn to be confused.

"Why do you care so much? Out of everyone here, why me? I'm not exactly great company and you're Lieutenant, you should be bossing me about, not asking me if I'm alright. I don't understand."

Meat chose that moment to scream higher than anyone thought was physically possible, interrupting their discussion, before turning to run away from a seriously pissed off looking Royce. This comically resulted in him miscalculating his escape route and running smack bang into the wall with a loud crunch. Roach couldn't help but let out a snort - not only at the hilarity of the scene, but the absurdity of the relevance of why he was the only one Ghost really bothered to talk to. He turned back to Simon, deep chocolate brown meeting amused sharp, icy blue; obviously the other man was having similar thoughts.

"I rest my case."

"Heh. Point taken."

"You obviously don't hold yourself in very high regard Roach, why?" He really did not want to go into this line of conversation. It was too hard to think about, let alone talk about. Quickly sculling the last of his coffee, he stood up. Ignoring the comment.

"Lets just go to the infirmary already".

He didn't mean to sound so rude, but he couldn't help it. There was nothing wrong and he didn't want to dwell on the negative.

"Rightio, _Sergeant_." Ghost stated pointedly, although they both knew that Lieutenant didn't really care too much about the rank superiority part.

 _Shit._ Gary mused, _he sounds pissed._ Making eye contact, the usually stern but almost mischievous visage was replaced by an icy glare and a stony expression. _Looks pissed too. Oh well, should learn to mind his own._ However pissed the man might be, he still started following him to medical. Must've really wanted to get out of doing something Gary decided.

* * *

 _LT. Simon "Ghost" Riley_

 _Location: Classified_

 _Date: November 26_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 0801 HRS_

The short walk to the infirmary was accompanied by relative silence. There was so many things on his mind that he wanted to say, but he could tell Gary didn't want to talk about it. He respected the other man's privacy, hell if the situation were reversed he'd probably have stormed off by now. But he was still annoyed, he hated not knowing things. Made him feel like he was losing control, and in a profession like this? Control was pivotal. The kid did know about most of his problems and what happened to him. Courtesy of himself. To be fair though, Gary had told him a lot too, well, in small doses. Maybe he just couldn't be arsed pretending to appear sanguine whilst in the midst of a war. _Its possible, I suppose. But he's still too quiet lately. The light just doesn't seem to dance and glimmer around the few golden flecks of his dark chocolate eyes in the same way any more. Almost like he's seen too much of the world - now his outlook is going dark. Just like mine._ He shuddered. Why was he even noticing this?

Something the younger man had said really stuck though, why him? Why _Gary_? He pondered that one for a minute.

 _Were so similar, its not even funny. Reminds me of myself; he's like a little brother. But he speaks as though he's not good enough; like he doesn't deserve anyone. I guess that's how I felt- feel, with my family and what happened with Roba - and the others. The kid was in foster care most of his childhood, until he met his mother who recently died. Fuck, I think I get it now. Were both a little fucked up. But he's a great guy, sure he's quiet, but he's quite the lovable and sarcastic ass-hole when you get to know 'im. Ill 'ave a word to him about it later. Fuck im gettin' soppy, I need a bloody drink-_

"Oi, mate!" Fingers snapping in his face quickly removed him from his reverie. He looked up to see the conflicted gaze of Sanderson, looked like he was vacillating between being annoyed with him and amused.

"What's wrong?"

Gary's voice was dripping with snide sarcasm, but he could hear the mirth and genuine concern in there too.

"Just thinking, nothin' important."

"Alright."

"What did you want?"

"Were here."

he laughed at the dry tone, spoken as if it were the end of the world. _Hell, with that nurse here, it bloody well could be._

"I know. You'll be alright mate, it's not _that_ bad." Gary just gave him an _oh really_ look, with a hint of _you hypocrite_.

"You better not let that woman touch me, ill be scarred for life." He had to laugh at that - _There's the old Gary again, funny how his personality can change just like that._

"I will. Promise."

He rubbed the younger man's hair as he pouted in a dangerously childlike way. It suited his young features better than the unexpressed look. It was almost cute, not that he'd ever admit that. Ever. To anyone.

 _"_ C'mon Bug, better make sure you're not dyin'."

* * *

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: Classified_

 _Date: November 26_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 1003 HRS  
_

After what felt like eternity, Gary finally made it away from all the doctors. Personally, he felt uncomfortable just from the foul sterile stench that seemed to accompany intrinsically any infirmary he'd ever been in. Lucky for him, Ghost had kept his word about not letting the rather brusque "nurse" traumatize him. In his opinion she wasn't really a nurse, just a scary old lady who intimated anyone in her way. _Heh, they should have put her in infantry._

The Lieutenant had actually started yelling at everyone in the building until someone else caved and offered to help Roach. It was done jokingly he assumed, unbeknownst to the medical staff - but Gary could see his superiors enjoyment of having control. He was grateful, even if he didn't understand why; usually he'd get told to just suck it up. After what happened with the hag last time, he wouldn't have hesitated to give her a few choice words as well. That wouldn't have gone down well with the Captain. Or he'd have a good laugh, you never knew with that man.

Apparently he was lucky to get away with a mildly sprained ankle and a few bruised ribs; possible hairline fracture, but he'd be fine given some rest and basic paracetamol. _Sleep would definitely help right about now_.

He turned to Simon, about to ask permission to be excused to comply with the doctors orders and get some rest when the other man interrupted him.

"We're very similar, you and I. You're decent and you 'ave potential mate, that's why I bother."

Gary didn't know how to respond, he wasn't good with this emotional bullshit, last he knew Simon wasn't either. This was new. Apparently the man really did care. _How flattering…_

"Thanks, I guess. Not like you to care. _"_

"True, don't like gettin' too close, doesn't end well. What've you done to me?" Simon smirked.

"Nothing." _What have I done?_

 _"_ Just don't tell anyone mate, or it'll be more training for you."

At that he laughed, for the first time in a while. The tough, no nonsense Simon Riley caring about an insignificant little "bug". Who'd have thought? The other man gave him a friendly nudge, "forgot you could laugh mate!"

"Hilarious," he smirked, "must've taken some balls to actually say something that soppy mate." The lieutenants turned to him, gaze harsh intending to reprimand, but immediately softened as he saw the teasing look on the younger man's face. He settled on teasing back.

"Oi, there's plenty more where that came from if you don't stop being an introverted bastard."

"Oh god, the horror." He smirked sarcastically.

Ghost didn't find it too amusing though, so he forced his face to display something less light-hearted before speaking honestly. "Look mate, there's really nothing wrong, alright? Just a bit tired lately, that's all."

The other man sighed, "alright, alright - I give. But, well, you know you _can_ trust me mate, right?. 'Bout anything. I'm not really as big of an arse as you bloody gits think me to be."

"I know. Thanks."

He smiled, he trusted the man with his life, but thoughts and feelings were another matter.

 _Maybe I could talk… Nah, another time._

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading the first chapter! I hope it was okay.**

 **As mentioned before, there will be much more action and drama soon. This was more just an introduction to establish personality and relationships for the later part of the story. Please review, feedback is greatly appreciated.**


	2. London Bridge is Falling Down

**_A/N: Here is the second Installment to my story! Please do enjoy. Also please let me know what you think! Thanks._**

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: Siberia_

 _Date: December 10_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 0027 HR_

Their next task was now a go, they had just finished debriefing and they were to be off almost immediately. Gary had found himself deep in thought whilst gathering everything he needed. He found himself doing a lot of that lately - the thinking. He had been exhausted lately, it made his mind wonder to things that really shouldn't matter, like; past relationships and new friendships.

He hadn't ever really had many relationship or friendships, he preferred his freedom. He did have a couple of good mates back home though, but he hadn't spoken to them in years. He idly wondered if they were still there. That got him thinking about his current situation, sure everyone in the task force were pretty decent as it went, but he wasn't really close with any of them - except Simon he supposed. Over the past couple of weeks, the two had become increasingly familiar with each other, partly due to the sleeping arrangements.

It was odd, he'd never found someone who could really understand him - he'd be the first one to admit that he was a bit different to most people. But, he was glad that he had someone to talk to - somewhat, now though. He loved being alone and the peace and quiet it brought, but sometimes being alone for a long time made him feel disengaged and like he didn't matter terribly much. Also, it was good to have someone to train with, he loved boxing - participated in the sport all through his childhood years, but it was very difficult to practice by himself. Felt good to get back into it. He felt it was also good for Simon to get his arse kicked at something - bloody bastard was still a tough opponent though.

A flash of lightning shortly followed by a loud crashing rumble of thunder brought him out of his musings. He had never really liked storms, made him feel... uneasy. Now that he thought about it, he felt very uneasy right now. Wasn't sure if it was the mission or the weather though.

 _Damn, I need to stop getting so bloody distracted._

He quickly grabbed his preferred guns and the last of the equipment and headed for the large doorway leading out. Suddenly a tall figure, a similar height to him, came rushing through the door, almost toppling into him. _Ghost._

"Ah, Sanderson! been waiting for you, ya bugger, something up or you ready to go? It's not like you to be slow mate."

"Nah, all good." He replied, "Just thinking."

"Right." Simon replied, disbelief coloring his tone but he didn't prod further. "Let's go!"

The slap to the shoulder was all the encouragement he needed to get out the door and towards the Helicopter before any more questions could be asked.

* * *

They had boarded the helicopter all but an hour ago, ready and nearing to their next mission and Roach was diligently cleaning his M4A1 in anticipation. He found the act rather cathartic and god did he need something to calm his thoughts right now. He didn't think himself particularly OCD, it was just a distraction. They were off to to the cold again, _yay._ Still, the change of scenery was welcome after the repetitive routine he was used to back at base after all.

 _Training, eating, training, sleeping, training, eating, training, sleeping…_

Until the killing ensued that was, this war was nothing but glorified, justified murder he knew. Both sides pretending to fight for what was right, but were they really? He liked to think they were, but sometimes he wasn't so sure. But he didn't care any more, its been his experience that the enemy usually deserved it. Least their intentions were usually good - they hoped to gain something positive out of it like Intel to prevent death or destruction.

Usually he was more positive before a job like this, but today he just didn't feel like he could be.

 _Why? Fuck knows._

Once he was finally satisfied the weapon was polished to immaculate measures, he moved onto his USP.45. Normally he wasn't this finicky unless he was really stressed, and something just didn't seem right about this mission. He decided it was definitely the mission and not the weather. He just had a feeling something was going to go majorly wrong, which in this line of work was entirely possible. Granted there was always the contingency plan if this was the case, but he was beginning to doubt whether that would be enough. Especially considering the 141's track record as of late with things going to plan, something fishy was going on - he could feel it.

Ghost seemed to have picked up on his unease, because he found himself on the scrutinizing end of the balaclava clad man's seriously unnerving gaze. He knew why the man wore that bloody thing, but shit was it creepy. He was pretty sure anyone else would be intimidated by such a stare. But not him.

"You sure you're alright mate?" Yet again, he detected genuine concern in the heavily and rough accented voice. He wasn't sure how to respond, he didn't want to be whiny but he did trust his instincts. But, then again, Ghost had pretty good instincts too so he decided to leave it.

"Guess so."

Gary responded somewhat gingerly. He knew he hadn't convinced the Lieutenant, but he really wasn't really one to complain about work, verbally. Given their new found established trust, the thought that maybe he should have said something still crossed his mind, but decided against it. The man was smart, he didn't need his opinion.

"Bad feeling?" At that Roach looked up, surprised. He didn't expect the other man to be having the same doubts, maybe there was some merit to his concerns after all. "Me too."

"Something doesn't feel right."

Ghost took his glasses off and crouched down directly in front of him before speaking again. Obviously attempting a comforting and sincere approach. Though his appearance did somewhat of a job diminishing the comforting stance.

"Look mate, just be careful out there, alright. Keep your eyes open and stay frosty, as 'Tavish would put it."

The other man's blue eyes burnt with an intensity that he wasn't used to seeing except in the heat of "battle", so to speak. He, in confusion, wondered why that was before the older man continued, gaze losing intensity, in an attempt to somewhat lighten the mood. "'Sides, when does anything go to plan for us anyway? We're the 141! Its what we do." He clapped Roach's shoulder before standing up and heading towards the Captain.

He ignored his superiors odd behaviour before thinking.

 _He's right, we'll be fine._ They were supposed to be keeping low any ways, so as long as they remained stealthy it'd be ok. _Easier said than done though._ When did a stealth mission ever go their way?

Suddenly MacTavish's gruff Scottish voice was heard, captivating everyone's attention. They began congregating around the man for one final "debrief" before they officially started the clock. Roach supposed it was more a comfort thing to MacTavish - to know his team knew what they were doing. Its not like they'd forget the brief in barely an hour, so he figured that was the only plausible reason for the repetition. Either that or the man thought them to be complete and utter blithering imbeciles - that made sense too.

The plan was simple, they didn't have an exact location of where the target was - a man named Ivan something, Roach couldn't pronounce it. He wasn't even sure _that_ part was correct it was said so fast. Anyway, he was digressing.

So, they planned that each team was given an area, building, to search - and clear it, if it really became necessary. However, priority one was to locate and apprehend the Russian man, without being detected. Unfortunately, large groups weren't very inconspicuous, so were forced to work as no more than a trio. So, if things went hot they wouldn't have much support.

 _Yay, that'll be fun._

MacTavish, Royce and Meat had the South building, whilst Rook, Worm and Ozone had the West.

That left Ghost and himself with the East - it was the most open; nowhere much to take cover, and nowhere to have an advantage should things get hot. He in no way was looking forward to such a situation. For some reason the Captain decided the "skilled" duo were the best option for the hunt in that area. Heh.

 _Ghosts cocky words not mine, honestly, I don't think im the best for the job. Most of the men here are much more skilled and experienced than I am._ Simon had just claimed that the Captain didn't deny it, thus it must be true so Gary couldn't argue. _Twat._

He guessed that his real reasoning was because they were the quietest… Sometimes.

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: Siberia_

 _Date: December 10_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 0119 HR_

Finally, after so much planning and thinking it was time to go.

"Lets go, ladies!"

MacTavish jokingly called to Meat and Royce before turning pointedly back to Ghost and himself with a frown. He was pretty sure he saw Meat give the Captain the finger for that one.

"Oi, now. Stay frosty, and don't get caught. You know better than anyone how important this Intel is, every bit matters. Remember: Silence-Silence-Silence until my say so. Hopefully this one'll be a breezer…" Though Gary could detect more hopefulness than sincerity in the Scottish Man's voice in that sentence.

With that he turned away, talking into the comms. "Start the clock six six, MRS. Actual is Oscar Mike. Out."

 _Whoo, go time. Lucky us._

"Let's do this!" Ghost stated strongly.

Obviously the other man was opting to remain surreptitious with his doubts on this mission. He just stared at the way too enthusiastic sounding man. "What?" he smirked, seeing my gaze. "Was getting bored."

Gary just rolled his eyes, he wanted to get moving. The sooner they secured the "package", the better.

They carefully made their way to the East of the complex they were infiltrating and were a few mikes out when Ghost motioned for him to stop, indicating the two guards stationed on the right. They were separated enough from the rest that no one would notice their bodies for a while if taken out, and they probably wouldn't be able to successfully sneak around them if they didn't. Though the guards positioning was odd he didn't question it much. Out loud, any way. The easiest option would be to take them out. One look towards the Lieutenant and Gary knew he agreed.

"Take the one on the right on 3. Suppressed fire only." He nodded in affirmation, raising his weapon to look through the ACOG sight. "One. Two. Three."

Crack. The familiar sound and feel of the quietened shot was weirdly comforting; he could certainly feel the adrenaline running through his veins now. "They're down, move up."

"Yes _sir_." He responded sarcastically, the need to lighten the situation ever present. Something really didn't seem right still. Ghost chuckled knowingly at his antics.

"Bloody bugger."

"Git."

"Wanker." _Heh._

They exchanged childish insults until they reached the edge of the building they needed to breach - quietly. Surprisingly, they hadn't been met with resistance yet, which just didn't happen. This was either a really good day, or a bad one. Very bad. He knew there luck wasn't ever that good, something wasn't right here. He also knew that the Lieutenant knew that too, he looked up exchanging a brief message with calculating and suspicious blue eyes. All he received was a shrug and the shake of a head, the objective was priority. But he could tell neither of them thought that their orders should be followed at this very point in time.

"Up there." Ghost indicated to an open window on the third story, it seemed like an easy enough climb and was less attention seeking than using a main entrance. _But why would they leave a window open in this weather?_

"Fuck." He muttered whilst climbing through a window that was all too conveniently left open. Simon had already gone through and determined that the area was clear. For now.

 _This is a really bad idea._

"Too right mate." The other man seemed to read his thoughts as he helped pull the Sergeant into the seemingly deserted building. He got to his feet and got his gun out ready, somehow he felt he was going to be needing it soon. "Watch our six, I'll take point."

"Roger."

They made their way quietly and carefully through each room, fully prepared for a full on assault, but still - nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. It just didn't make any sense. "Why have so many hired guns outside protecting bloody nothing?"

"I don't know, Bug." The man replied gingerly as he rounded the next hallway, entering a dark and shadowy room with a large mahogany wood table protruding the middle of it. It had files on both British and American military regiments, as well as information on specific soldiers. Possibly ones deemed a threat. "Whatever it is, I don't like it."

Then it hit him, "Ghost, I think we've bee-"

Suddenly the radio crackled to life with the Captains frantic yell, interrupting the voicing of his suspicions.

"WE'VE BEEN COMPROMISED! I repeat, we've been compromised! Forget the mission, Ghost, get your arses out of there, they know you're there and they're coming for you! At least 23 tangos, head for the LZ _now!_ "

"Fuck!" Ghost turned to him, opening his mouth to speak. He was quickly silenced by a shot ringing through their ears and hitting the wall mere millimetres from his head. Roach took a shot back at the tango, quickly neutralizing him and any other approaching enemies before turning back to Ghost. "MOVE!" He didn't need bloody telling twice. He made sure the room was clear before legging it.

They hastily made their way back the way they came, making sure to check the rooms and corners before they ran from the approaching threat. Sure they could fight their way out, but avoiding the enemy seemed the smarter, more tactical option. Occasionally firing back was incumbent when they became too hot on their tails, but they didn't waste too much time on that. All Gary could think was that he knew something wasn't right from the moment they were debriefed.

 _Bloody Ivan. Should have fucking listened to my gut._

He momentarily panicked after he felt a sharp sting in his arm after hearing the family whiz of a bullet come flying past. _Shit!_ Taking cover, he looked down at his bleeding arm, relieved at what he saw. _Fuck, just a graze, fucking lucky…_ It wasn't particularly painful, but he didn't want to be hindered now that everything had turned to shit.

He shot the bastard, and any other personnel he could spot within the proximity in the chest and head, successfully clearing the area before running from cover towards the window behind Simon.

"We need to get out of 'ere Roach!" He was sure he could detect a hint of fear in the other man's voice. _Probably worried because im his only back up, thinks we're gonna die. It's not exactly the most comforting thing._

"I'll cover you Ghost, go!" _Hopefully at least one of us will get out of here, alive._

Despite rank, the older man obliged, and hastily too. All that was going through his mind was fuck, fuck, fuck! The amount of times he'd been in this situation and this was still what immediately came to mind. He should probably be more professional.

Abruptly more men ran into the room he was occupying, he quickly took cover being an office desk and started firing. There seemed to be fucking hundreds! And the table wasn't exactly bulletproof.

After a minute Ghost had reached the bottom of the multi-story building, this was when they seemed to be thinning out rapidly. _How odd, oh well._ Cowards or regrouping, he didn't care, he just wanted to get the fuck out of that building where they could blend and reach the LZ. Making the most in the gap of enemy tangos, he legged it the the edge of the window. _So bloody close now!_

He should have known better though, it was never that easy. Just as he was about to climb out, the ground seemed to erupt around him with a massive bang and crack. The force was powerful to knock him off his feet, successfully destabilising him from knowing which way was up.

The building exploded, his vision became engulfed in flames as he was flung through the window with glass and concrete following him; time felt as if it slowed down. He felt debris come crashing into him, knocking him down; crushing him. His vision blacked out momentarily before the scene unfolding before him re-appeared. _They blew up the fucking building!_ He attempted to move, but was met pain. White hot burning pain. There was nothing he could do, he was stuck. With a fucking building collapsing around him.

The pain was excruciating, every time he tried to take a breath it felt like shards of white hot glass were being shoved into his lungs and back. His head throbbed, it wouldn't stop pounding, ringing - he just wanted the noise, and the pain, to go away. He grabbed his head in a futile attempt to mitigate the pain, but it didn't help any. But when he retracted his hand in an effort to drag himself up, what he saw was not good. Blood. _Everywhere. Fuck._ This wasn't good and he just didn't have the energy to try and move. _Crap._

Suddenly everything became brighter, more surreal. The pain was starting to dull, as was his grasp on reality. All he could hear was heavy breathing, almost hyperventilating. Who was that? Oh wait, that was him. His was starting to kick in, signalling he was on the verge of losing consciousness. _Shit, im going to die_ was his last terrified thought before his vision all went dark again.

In the corner of his conciousness he swore he heard someone he knew he knew say something. But nothing would make sense and he couldn't tell who it was.

"GARY!"

That sounded familiar, who was Gary? But he didn't have the energy to think. He was so tired, he needed to sleep.

Then there was nothing. Everything was gone, faded away. All that was left was the darkness to take him away. Finally, he gave in to the unconsciousness.


	3. Going To Hell

**_A/N: I'm not 100% happy with how this chapter played out, but at least the characters are in the setting I need them in now. Also, the names are mostly made up by typing random letters into the keyboard, sorry if they sound terrible. Hope you all enjoy it anyway._**

 _LT. Simon "Ghost" Riley_

 _Location: Siberia_

 _Date: December 10_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 0351 HRS_

" _GARY!"_

He screamed the Sergeants name, though the action seeming futile after witnessing the horrific scene that had just unfolded before him. Of all the shitty things that could have possibly happened that had been going through his mind since the start of this mission, that wasn't one of them; the building exploding, with Roach in it. _Crap!_

He watched helplessly as the other man was flung into the cold, hard ground - building following suit, as well as hot, burning debris, all landing on or around the probably very injured man. He felt the anger, and something else he wasn't used to - panic? Rising inside him. He didn't like the feeling, it made him feel like he was losing control of the situation. He needed control, but there was nothing he could do that wouldn't be stupid and put himself at risk of being injured. The professional side of him that was his usual stoic façade forced his head clear of unnecessary thoughts to assess the situation. He had to think.

No wonder the enemy seemed to disperse in a hurry.

 _They were planning to bloody blow us up the whole time._ It abruptly dawned on him. _That must mean that we_ _were fucking set up! But how? We were bloody careful, they couldn't have seen us coming. That means they must 'ave someone on the inside. But where are they now? Bloody bastards are up to something, I've a feeling if they wanted us dead we would be by now._

 _Shit. I've gotta get the kid outta 'ere before we find out what it is they're up to._

Still, they hadn't closed in on them yet, they still had some time to move which was sloppy or cowardly of them. _Obviously they're not the brightest of people if they're just leaving us alone for now._ _Unless…_ _No, I cant afford to think like that._

Simon pushed any dark thoughts of his current situation and past away to focus on the here and now. Deciding he needed to take action now, he started for where the other man lay almost motionless.

He ran as fast as his legs would move through the detritus that was a standing building only minutes before. He ignored the flames that still engulfed the area, and hoping nothing more would fall. He had to get to Gary.

Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, but he was scared for the man. The guilt ate at him, he was certain there was something he could have done to prevent this. He should have been in control, should have been paying attention to his surroundings. Hell, he should've be paying more attention now before something worse happened, but he didn't really care, he wasn't prepared to lose another friend; another brother.

As he closed the gap between them, heavy breathing was heard coming from the Sergeant. _That ain't good. Gotta find out if he's conscious, if he's not it could be very bad news._

"Gary!"

He called again, but he wasn't met with a verbal response, just a slight sliver of eyelids opening a fraction. A fearful look was emitted from the almost closed bloodshot, brown eyes. He didn't like that, the kid was fading fast. Seconds passed as he assessed his condition. He was now only borderline conscious at best, Ghost observed judging by the now only faint moving and fluttering of his filthy eyelids.

There was blood everywhere, and there was a particularly nasty looking gash on his head pouring with it. He'd have to look at that in a minute, but first, his mid-section and legs were covered in rubble, which he hastily removed. Though, he wasn't sure he wanted to see what was underneath he mused.

"Fuck." He muttered as soon as it was somewhat cleared.

His assumption was, regretfully, veracious - he didn't like what he saw. His stomach was bleeding heavily, several ribs appeared to be broken. This, amalgamated with some unpleasant looking burns, led him to the conclusion - Gary was a fucking mess. At least his legs didn't appear too damaged, that was good because they needed to find help and medical attention fast.

 _He could probably lean on me and hobble if he wasn't unconscious. Arghh, bloody hell._

He didn't have much time, they had to get out of there. The bastards could be closing in on them any seconds now.

Turning to tell Gary they needed to move, he noticed the mans eyes were now completely still. _fuck_. By the sounds of Gary's labored breathing he knew the kid was still alive, though he couldn't help but hope that there was nothing puncturing his lungs. If that were the case his chances were probably infinitesimal. _Least he's breathing - for now._

They really needed help, then he suddenly remembered;

 _The radio!_

Quickly grabbing it and turning it on, "MacTavish!" He hurriedly shouted into the comms. "Roach is down. I repeat, Roach is down! Request help immediately, he doesn't have much time!"

Simon waited desperately for precious seconds, just listening to the static crackle of the probably broken communications device before throwing it away angrily. _Fuck, no response. That was probably a fucking bad idea, but fuck! I just need to think - focus; calm down and get the hell outta here. This is just all too familiar._

He turned back to Gary, he was pale. The condition of the man was worsening almost exponentially by the minute. He really didn't want to move the man and risk further injury, but he really didn't have a choice by this point. He really hated his job sometimes.

But before he could take any action he heard voices in the distance. _Fuck!_ He mentally reprimanded himself for being too unobservant and distracted, unacceptably so - by all military standards. His poor choices were probably going to get them both killed unless he did something fast, but what?

He reached for his ACR, prepared to fight his way out if need be. But he was too late. Suddenly he heard footsteps, and the familiar sound of a gun clicking behind his head.

"Don't move." A thick Russian accent demanded, "or you both die!"

 _Bollocks!_

He didn't know what to do, every part of him screamed at him to not comply, to fight them. But Gary - the kid couldn't fight, he wasn't even conscious; barely alive. Not fighting felt a lot like giving up, but he was scared - petrified, not for him, but for the other man. He hadn't felt fear like this in years, but he knew there was nothing he could do to save them now. He had failed, yet again. That really pissed him off.

"Fuck!"

In his angered state, he quickly turned around, firing his weapon to where he tracked the voice from, but it wasn't enough. There was too many of them. He knew he had hit someone, but it didn't make any difference. It was merely a strand of hair he had gotten rid of out of a full head.

A harsh blow to the back of his head brought him back to reality, followed by a heavy combat boot to the gut. There was a small stinging sensation in his arm, like a pinprick, _a needle or syringe?_ Then he momentarily blacked out before he realized they were now dragging his body away from his original position.

 _Fuck, Roach! They're taking me away from him, he'll fucking die!_

"No! Stop!"

Pure anger and fear laced his course voice, he couldn't let his subordinate die.

He thrashed and yelled as much as his body would allow, but soon realized he didn't have much strength. A losing battle, no doubt. They responded by punching him in the face and calling him something he didn't quite catch in Russian. giving up - _Who are these fucking arseholes?_ He wondered _._ Asking was probably a bloody stupid idea, but he was already screwed anyway.

"Who the fuck are you?"

He needed to know, only the words came out much more slurred than he anticipated. He figured they understood the question though.

What ever energy he had left was diminishing - and quickly too. _Fuck they must have drugged me, bloody hell. Arghh!_ Now he was livid. He doubted there was anything he could do for the kid now. Maybe if he made enough noise the Captain - or anyone, would notice. He doubted it, but what else could he do? So he kept yelling and thrashing until he received a harsh blow to the face.

"I believe the name Ivan will satisfy your question, no?"

The Russian smirked, he was honestly expecting more of a fight. The drug had apparently weaned its way in with some alacrity.

"Good work on that experiment Doctor." He vaguely heard someone say.

"You _Bastard!_ Roach! GARY!"

He tried helplessly to reach out to the younger man, or to grab the ground to stop them dragging him away - he wasn't sure which, all his senses were way too nebulous by now. All he was aware of was the foul metallic taste of blood burning in his mouth that just wouldn't go away. The darkness was pulling at his vision, threatening to take control over his head and mind. "GARY!" he yelled until consciousness was finally gone.

* * *

His whole body went limp, whatever drug they injected into him had taken full effect by now.

The Russians just laughed, not holding back on knocking the unconscious man into every obstacle in their path to the helicopter. They hoped the Brit could somehow feel it.

* * *

 _(Ret.) LT. General Ivan Kramopovik_

 _Location: Siberia_

 _Date: December 10_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 0351 HRS_

Once they reached their destination, the men slung the body in the heli rather haphazardly, seemingly not possessing even an iota of guilt over their actions. This was going to be fun for them. _Nefarious bastards._

Whilst this was happening, he couldn't help but contemplate on what this meant for them. Having the 141's Lieutenant and Sergeant in their midst? A powerful play, at last.

 _But,_ _However can we utilize the opportunity most?_ He wondered, snidely. Then he remembered depicting the rather characteristic and affable relationship between the two. _Not like Riley to be sociable, or even pleasant. Maybe he cares for the man more than a comrade - like a brother. This could be used to our advantage. Heh. He's going to regret revealing his… softer side for as long as he lives - should we choose to follow this plan. Hmm. Decisions, decisions._

"What of the other man?" Vitaly inquired hesitantly, interrupting his thoughts.

That got his attention, what indeed? This decision would determine the result of the whole operation. Part of him just wanted to kill them all. But that wasn't tactically logical in this situation. He couldn't let personal wants get in the way this time… This was bigger than just one measly Sergeant. He sighed, knowing what had to be done.

"Bring him with us. From what I hear, Lieutenant Riley here isn't much of a talker and doesn't have the best track record with… _Interrogations_. He seems to care for the Sergeant from what we've observed, that may be just the weapon we need to get him talking… Keep him alive." He indicated to the resident "doctor" with a smirk. "I'm almost certain he will be very useful later on. "

"Da." An acolyte, whose name he never bothered to learn, responded venomously. He liked the man's attitude towards the 141. Shared that particular view of them himself.

He hated the 141, they killed his son, and now he would make them suffer. Every. Single. One. Whether it be physically or emotionally - he didn't care. Greed and anger clouded his vision. The need for revenge was powerful.

* * *

 _Dr. Vitaly Reklov_

 _Location: Siberia_

 _Date: December 10_ _th_ _, 2014_

 _Time: 0401 HRS_

He didn't like the look his boss had in his eyes, it was dangerous. Only once had he seen that look before; the day the man lost his son. He really didn't envy the British one's fates. _Oh well, rather them than me._ He brought his attention back to his job - "keep the kid alive, for now." Were his orders.

Well that was easier said than done, he was a mess. _This could take a while. bet the kid'll wish we let him die soon._

* * *

And it did take a while, they were now back at their main base after an hours flight. He had only just finished ensuring crucial wounds weren't going to kill the man just yet.

Luckily he didn't think the lung was punctured, so he was able to stabilize his breathing with relative ease after some work. The lacerations had clotted reasonably well after pressure was applied - successfully stopping fresh blood loss. The burns and broken ribs were another issue all together, they would hurt like a bitch. Only time could help heal that. But that wasn't his problem though, as far as he was concerned, the kid could suffer. Anyway, he assumed that it would soon feel like nothing compared to what was yet to come.

"Good luck, _Soldier_."

He smirked, the sadistic bastard within him starting to reveal itself. Chuckling, he left the young man's - _Gary, was it?_ God-awful sojourn and went for a smoke. He was definitely going to Hell when he died, he decided.


	4. Whose Fault Is It Again?

**_A/N: I'm not a doctor... enjoy._**

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Time: UNKNOWN_

His head was pounding, like someone was using a jack-hammer right next to him, but he couldn't remember why. He had no idea what was going on or where the hell he even was. _The fuck is going on?_ He tried to open his eyes, but it made no difference - everything was blurry, he figured he must've gotten a concussion at some point. Somehow.

Gary moved his hand to clutch his still throbbing head, but the movement tore at his wounds, causing him to hiss sharply as his injuries protested in being moved in such a way. He felt so much pain, it felt like shards of glass where being shoved into his body every time he moved. Every breath now felt like the equivalent to what breathing would be like after running a marathon in the desert he decided.

 _Fuck. Ok, moving - bad idea. Let's not try that again too much._

At least now his vision had improved, somewhat, despite his head feeling like it was being split open. Not that it made much of a difference.

The room was dark and cold, almost glacial. They were probably still in Siberia, the bastards wouldn't care about heat.

The only things visible were grey shadowy walls, but that was is. There was no window, no light - nothing. It was to Gary the epitome of a torture room; and it smelt dank and musty, as if no-one had occupied it in decades. _Probably haven't. fuck._ The place was like his own personal hell, only hell would have been nicer right now he thought whilst unsuccessfully attempting to sit up again, resulting in a pained grimace.

 _What the fuck happened?_ He remembered climbing into the building and something not being right. MacTavish's warning that they'd been compromised, then… _oh fuck._ It all came flooding back to him, the building blowing up, not being able to move - the pain. _Bollocks! They must have got me, but- shit, Simon! The man wouldn't leave someone behind, not in that country. So that means he's either in this shithole too, or he got out and went back but couldn't get to me._

Gary wanted to believe it was the latter option, but he knew. He just knew that the lieutenant wouldn't have left him, no matter what. _The bloody idiot. He's here somewhere._

The man was a twat, he firmly believed. Albeit the selfish part of his mind was grateful that he may not be completely alone. _Safety in numbers and all that,_ he tried to tell himself why he was glad. Lying and convincing himself that was a helluva lot easier than admitting he was afraid. He was a fucking soldier, had been for years, he shouldn't be scared - he wasn't weak. _But if I wasn't weak, how did I single handedly get us both captured by these- whoever they are._

His internal conflictions were interrupted by the big, metal door swinging open, exuding bright white light into the room which just made his head hurt even more. Adjusting to this, the doorway revealed a man who looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn't put his finger to it. The man was followed by a few burly looking men dragging along a thrashing body. Though the man's face was covered he knew who it was. _Ghost._ No one knew how to cause a scene quite like him Roach mused.

However, he wasn't sure if he was relieved or devastated to see the other man here. Were they tormenting him, showing off that they had his colleague so he would comply with their demands?

 _Fucking unlikely, that's not what Simon would want. He's a tough bastard. He'll tell me to suck it up and don't tell them a thing except to bugger off._

That sparked a thought; had they been having "fun" with the man, finished and come to dump him back off to this room? Were they even being kept in the same room? What were these people up to? Who even were these people? He had so many fucking questions it just made his head hurt more.

Suddenly, Simon's face was revealed and the other man was shoved forcefully into the floor, landing half on his legs, causing a sharp pain to shoot up everywhere in his body.

Biting his tongue to avoid showing his pain and weakness, he looked over to Simon, meeting his gaze. He looked apologetic; almost remorseful. There was nothing the Lieutenant could have done to prevent the landing though, the bastards had restrained his arms behind his back. On the positive side, his face didn't look too badly beaten. Well, by their standards anyway. He was pretty sure the man could handle these people though. Shit, when did he care so much about how the other man was anyway? _Im getting bloody soft._

"Sorry mate." Ghost whispered, disrupting his thought pattern. He was obviously genuinely concerned.

"S'okay."

Gary managed to mumble in response, the movement aggravated his injured ribs. It hurt. He really didn't feel like talking right now, he wanted to find out who the fuck these people were and get the hell out of there. He wasn't in a very good mood.

"Well well well… looks like you're finally awake." An sinister voice muttered. Gary looked up to meet the man's cold, almost evil glare. He knew that face, it was the bloke they were supposed to interrogate. _Looks like the tables have turned._

"Now the fun can really begin."

 _Oh yes, so much fun._ He rolled his eyes.

Two men began hauling his limp body upright before Gary was met with a fist to the face, followed by several more to other regions of his body. It was bothersome and painful. There was some shouting in the back ground that he vaguely heard, but couldn't really pay much attention in his current situation.

He could take a punch, sure, but on top of his other injuries it felt agonizing. He groaned as the hits just kept coming and coming, until he was sure he was going to pass out. He couldn't breathe. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, successfully blocking any air intake he could get. Finally the blows stopped and his body just dropped like a sack of potatoes. He winced at the painful movement, but refused to show them his pain. He knew that's what they wanted.

"You bloody bastards!" he heard a familiar voice yell angrily. _Right, Ghost._

"That's what happens when you don't tell us what we want to know, Riley." _Huh? What do they-_

His thought was interrupted as he felt someone lifting him up again. This wasn't good.

"Fuck you!"

Roach felt something more solid smash into his abdominal area, successfully knocking any regained wind out of him. _So they fucking using me to get to Simon huh? Yay me. "_ Stop!"

"Then answer the bloody question!"

He felt another blow, to his legs this time. It hurt but at least he could still breathe.

"Fuck, NO! Never."

Gary looked at Simon, eyes full of pain and fear. But he knew they had to keep their mouths shut about every little detail of their jobs. No matter what. He knew Simon understood his look, and agreed 100%. But he didn't miss the haunted and guilt filled expression on the older man's face. _Right now would I rather be the bastard getting beaten up, or the unlucky sod who has to watch, helpless? I honestly don't know._

"You don't seem to understand the rules of this game Riley. I'm in control, I make the demands and I ask the questions. You make any snide comments or refuse to answer, the Sergeant gets it. Could I be any clearer?"

He could tell Simon was about to say something but he didn't get the chance, the Russian obviously wasn't in the mood for any bullshit.

"No? Alright then, so be it."

Gary looked up in time to see a knife coming at him with such velocity he knew it was going to do some serious damage.

"No!" he heard Simon protest vehemently, but it was futile.

The knife was brought down into the flesh of his thigh. This time, he couldn't stop himself and let out a strangled cry. The pain was unbearable, the knife seemed to burn at his skin, setting every single nerve in his body on fire. The man continued to thrust it deeper and deeper into his leg, until yet again, he found himself being lost to unconsciousness. Only this time he didn't care, at least the pain would temporarily go away.

 _LT. Simon "Ghost" Riley_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Time: UNKNOWN_

" _No!" You bloody bastards! What, they stop a bloke from dying, only to try and kill him again hours later? Smart._

He watched as the Bug's eyes rolled into the back of his head, a sure sign he wouldn't be awake for a while. He assessed the damage done in such a short amount of time, there were dark bruises already forming over his skin, as well as blood everywhere. Someone really needed to stop the bleeding on that stab wound…

He wanted to beat these men to a pulp, watching them hurt Gary made him angry. He didn't miss the terrified and vulnerable look in the young man's eyes as he saw the knife coming. The look didn't suit the usually stoic, athletic and strong man's appearance. It reminded him of all those years ago when it was him getting beaten and tortured, he didn't want the kid to go through that. But what choice did he have? They both knew the risks, excepted that if they were to be in this position they wouldn't talk - couldn't talk. Simon knew he had to put up and shut up, at least with information. But it didn't stop it from hurting; feeling wrong.

He turned angrily to the bastard, eyes full of hate. "Im going to fucking kill you."

The man just laughed, a sinister, empty laugh from someone who takes some sick enjoyment in others pain.

"Unlikely."

There eyes met, Icy blue meeting uncaring green. He hated this man with a passion, almost as much as Roba right now. "You ready to talk now, Lieutenant?"

"Bite me!" he knew he was going to regret that, but he didn't care. The man would get nothing from him. Not after what he'd done to his "brother in arms".

If it weren't for the harsh sting, he wouldn't have noticed the slap to the face. All he could focus on now was making sure Roach was going to be okay, for now. He was sure the vulnerability in the younger man's face would haunt him for the rest of his life. _Not that its going to be much longer at this rate anyway._

"You should learn some manners, Riley."

The bastard sneered before kicking the unconscious body of the Sergeant. _Real tough mate, kick a man while he's down._

"I've nothing but time, so whilst you sit here all high and mighty, thinking you wont ever tell me anything. I'll be preparing my next tactic. You think that was bad for him? That was nothing. I think ill enjoy seeing you both suffer while he's begging for mercy. It's all up to you now - I know how much you like control." And with that, he turned on his heel and left. "Have a pleasant evening."

He growled, like a rabbit dog. _That pompous bastard!_ Suddenly two men were holding him down whilst undoing the cuffs. _How odd?_

"Try not to let him die, da?"

Of course. It was up to him to keep the kid alive, but he was also the one causing him the torment. What a head fuck.

The rest of the men left him to it and slammed the door shut, clicking the locking mechanism behind them. Now it was just Gary, him and the bloody dark. But for how long? That didn't matter, priority one now was stop the bleeding from the wound in the other man's leg. That was going to be fun without really being able to see anything. He sighed, tearing off part of his uniform to use as a tourniquet at the top of the thigh. He bloody hoped this worked.

Suddenly he was glad he had lots of layers of clothing on, he had a feeling he was going to be needing it. He gingerly cleaned up all of the new wounds on the kid, fearful of hurting him more, before checking over the ones previously tended to. He observed exacerbated bruising, but nothing life threatening had re appeared. Thank god. Not that he believed in god or any other deity really. He'd seen things that even the devil wouldn't care for, now if those were the doings of a higher power, he knew why the whole world was screwed. It was easier to not believe. More morally acceptable, he supposed.

He carefully double checked everything and made sure the Sergeant was lain comfortably before slumping lethargically next to the contused man.

 _Those bloody ribs of his are gonna hurt like anythin' when he wakes up._ He thought idly, sleep threatening to set in. _Glad he's not a whiny little brat._

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Time: UNKNOWN_

He woke up with a start, momentarily forgetting the dire situation they were in. He was quickly reminded when the pain of after burn and and heavy bruising exploded throughout his whole body, causing him to hiss in pain.

"Gary?" The voice brought him back to his previous predicament.

S _hit the Russian bloke and Ghost, what happened?_

"Oi mate, you're alright."

Simon was there? What about the other man? He slowly turned his head to get a better view. They appeared to have left them alone for now, but not for long he supposed.

"Wha-" he attempted to ask before bursting into a coughing fit, apparently talking wasn't a good idea. _Oh well, he didn't talk much anyway._

"You got knocked out - from the pain, they left an hour or so ago. Just after. You're alright, but try not to talk to much, yeah?" Evidently Simon understood what he had tried to ask anyway.

For the first time in his life, he was glad he hadn't woken up alone. But then he remembered why he wasn't alone in the first place and the guilt hit him like a freight train. They were in this mess because of him - because he wasn't fast enough; wasn't good enough. He had to apologise, he never understood Ghost's interest in befriending him - this just proved that he wasn't worth it.

"'M sorry." he managed to mumble, sorrowfully. He was met with a confused gaze.

"What? Why? You haven't done anything mate."

"That's the problem." Now the other man really was confused. He elaborated.

"S'my fault."

"What?"

 _LT. Simon "Ghost" Riley_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Time: UNKNOWN_

Simon just sighed. He wasn't expecting Gary to be honest with him about how he was feeling; the guilt he was feeling. "Bloody hell mate."

He turned to look at the kid - his friend, as best as he could in the darkness of the room before speaking again. "It's not your fault kid, it's really not. If anything, its mine. I should have been more alert, we both knew something was wrong, yet I let it all turn to shit. So don't blame yourself, blame me. I should have been in control and I wasn't."

Gary looked shocked by his heartfelt words, he wasn't used to people being nice - It unnerved him. The Sergeant let out a small laugh, though not one of humour. Just disbelief.

However, one glance at the serious blue eyes and he knew the Lieutenant meant what he said, but he refused to believe it. It was his fault, it had always been his fault.

"M'not good enough." _What?_

And then it clicked, He knew what had been bugging Bug lately, he felt unsatisfactory. Like he wasn't worthy of anything; the 141, Simon's friendship. The older man didn't understand though, Gary hadn't been anything but hard working and skilled out in the field - following orders to a fault. As for the emotional stuff? Well, they didn't really talk about that, so he didn't know. But given his personality, it made sense.

He probably should find out what was festering in the young man's mind before it got too deep; when the effects of self doubt become irreversible. However, right now he doubted whether getting to the root of this would make any difference. He didn't know how long they'd be imprisoned in this hell hole, or if they'd ever get out. That was sure to have negative affects ones worth, so he'd deal with it later.

But right now? Survival.

He turned back to the Sergeant, intending to prepare him for what was next to come, given his… personal experiences. But the kid had fallen asleep again, apparently minutes had past since he'd last spoken - being too deep in thought. He didn't have the heart to wake him up, or he couldn't be bothered. _Who knows?_ Besides, he'd need all the rest he could get.

It was going to be a long next few weeks. _Or months._ Rest would help him recover from the injuries anyway. Simon just laid back down, feeling the dread in his gut rise.

They were fucked. He knew it. Completely and utterly, fucked. But what was next to come was unbeknownst, even to him.


	5. Did You Enjoy That, Gary?

**_A/N: Sorry if its not terribly well written or great, my inspiration was severely lacking. Again, I'm not a doctor, nor do I practice torture... Sorry if there are inaccuracies. But, hope you enjoy._**

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Time: UNKNOWN_

 _The corridor looked familiar, he rounded the corner. Hearing a noise behind him, he turned around to investigate. Unfortunately, not looking where he was going, he bumped into something - a table and a vase. Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion. This was something he remembered so clearly, he was 10 years old and the vase broke._

 _After being awoken by the noise, a tall man came downstairs - similar curly brown hair to his own. The man looked between him and the mess for a moment before his eyes seemed to turn red with anger and hate._

" _I'm going to fucking kill you!"_

 _The man screamed, and he turned and ran, fear for his life spurring him on._

 _Gary was running and running but he couldn't seem to get away, his legs wouldn_ _'_ _t move. The man was getting closer and closer, but he was stuck. He was going to get him, Gary tried to scream for help, but no one was listening; no one cared. The man pulled out a pistol - a browning he was sure, and pointed it into his head._

" _No!" Gary tried to scream, but he couldn't. Nothing would come out._

 _The man clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger._

 _Bang!_

* * *

Gary shot up as far as he could move, his breathing labored and struggling. He couldn't get the image of his dads hatred for him and the fear he felt when he was just a kid out of his head. His whole body protested at the harsh movement, but he didn't care, he needed to forget.

 _It was just a dream. Fuck._

But then he remembered where he- they, were. _Crap._ He turned his head in the darkness to see if the other man was still there, and there was the silhouette of the largely built man right next to him. _Thank god._

"Hey."

He heard Simon murmur tiredly. The Cockney accent was both familiar and comforting. But he didn't sound great.

 _He's probably been awake the whole time I was out, but how long was that?_ God he felt awful - mentally and physically. Shit.

"Hi."

Was the only thing he could muster in response, too many thoughts in his head. His gaze turned to the dark room, mapping his surroundings out of habit. Not that he could see much any way. However, there didn't seem to be any one else around, which was a plus for now.

He looked back up at the other man, who was obviously deep in thought. His mouth moved as though he wanted to say something, but the slight shake of his head told Gary that Ghost was holding back. He Sighed, caring enough to want to help. "What's wrong?"

Simon seemed to snap out of it because he just smiled and assured him it was nothing. Gary raised an eyebrow in the epitome of a disbelieving look, but just shook his head. _Not my business._

"Anyway, you having a bad dream just before?"

The other man suddenly inquired. Genuine concern or changing the subject, he didn't know. But he really didn't want to talk about it. They had much bigger issues right now.

"Yeah, s'nothing. Don't worry."

"Yeah, know what they're like. This bloody place doesn't help any." Gary just nodded in understanding, staying quiet. He figured neither of them particularly wanted to delve into that topic anyway.

"How long have we been here?"

"Few days, give or take. You were out for a while, so was I, I assume."

"Shit."

"Too right, mate."

No wonder the other man sounded tired.

"Think we'll make it out of here?"

"I don't know, Bug. Honestly. 'm startin' to doubt it, if MacTavish hasn't found us yet, it means he doesn't know where we are, or… you know"

That got him thinking. He hoped no one else was here in this hell hole, though he didn't much talk to anyone else, he did feel a sense of care and camaraderie with them. A feeling he knew was returned.

 _If they're alive, they'll be trying to find us. But how long will that take?_

He hoped a few weeks at most, but that was probably wishful thinking. _Gotta stay positive I suppose. They'll find us, but In the meantime…_

What would become of _them_? He expected the worst, and for it to hurt, but what would that be?

He sighed, garnering the blokes attention.

He knew his friend could give him some better insight. Bitter/sweet he supposed, having experience with this. He knew it wasn't something the other bloke liked talking about, but he'd much rather have providence in such a critical situation with the possibility of Simon being mad at him than be caught by surprise for the sake of feelings. So he finally bit the bullet and forced the words out of his mouth.

"What do you think they'll do to us?"

Brown eyes met sorrowful blue in an attempt to read the other man's response and thoughts. Though Gary wasn't met with the resistance he anticipated, just fear and sadness.

"The lot, mate. "

He raised his eyebrows in obvious question. He was pretty sure he knew what the man meant, but confirmation was always good.

"These men are smart Gary, they know a lot about us. I'll bet they know about my past, so they wont hesitate to go all out on you. You need to be prepared, so im goin' to be honest 'ere. My guess is; Electrocution, burning, water-boarding, force feeding - they need us alive, so we gotta eat somehow and we ain't stupid enough to eat any food they give us. Drugging, which I think they've already done, and your traditional beatings. "

The last part being added with completely sarcastic merriment.

"You'd be surprised just how much damage a bloody knife or boot can do. Think that about covers it - for you any ways. It's goin' to be a bit different for me I think. It's going to be bloody painful, but I seriously doubt they'll try to kill you for a while, they want information so that'd be stupid. Lucky you."

He opened his mouth to respond to the unexpected openness and honesty, but the door burst open. He knew this was the start to a very chaotic and pain filled day.

"Good morning, gentlemen." Ivan chuckled, "for me at least."

Roach, not paying much attention, heard Ghost mumble something under his breath that made the Russian growl, _probably something along the lines of fuck you or something very racist and derogatory. Humorous, but not a smart idea._

His thoughts were confirmed, because for his superiors insubordination, he received a large fist to the nose, making a horrid crunching nose. It was probably broken.

"Fuck!"

He groaned, not even being able to clutch his face as he was now being restrained by two bloody strong men who he immediately hated. _That hurt like a bitch_. He really wished Ghost would shut his bloody mouth now.

He let himself fall limp, feeling too sore and lethargic to hold himself up. Apparently this wasn't ok because the two Russians dragged him back upright, exacerbating the pain from his injuries.

"Lets take a little walk shall we?"

 _Like we have a bloody choice._

They physically dragged him out the door and through several turns in the hallway. When they reached the stairs, they bashed him against every single step, clearly enjoying every single moment.

 _They must really fucking hate us._

The force against his head caused his vision to go blurry, and by the time it cleared up they had reached a room that was white and tiled. It reminded him of a really creepy bathroom, and that terrified him.

He was thrown roughly onto a hard table, then pinned down whilst several men tied his arms and legs to it, successfully trapping him and rendering him unable to move. _Fuck you_ he thought bitterly, he had a feeling he knew what was coming.

Across from him, he saw them tie Simon to a chair, directly facing him. He could tell by the look on the other man's scarred face he, too, knew what was coming.

"Im going to fucking kill you!"

Ghost shouted furiously, earning a punch in the jaw.

"Watch it, Riley. One more outburst and the repercussions will be much worse, I assure you."

The Russian spoke calmly whilst retrieving something from a large black bag, he could see the years of experience lingering in his posture.

 _This is going to bloody hurt._

" Do you see this bag? it's my little bag of tricks." The man smiled as if remembering a joke. "Well, it's not really mine, it's my mechanics. Though, he lets me borrow it from time to time."

"Fucking hell…" Gary muttered, this was a fucking game to the bastard.

"So he speaks!"

He smiled sadistically as the Sergeant before continuing. "Was beginning to think you couldn't. Any way, I digress. Are you aware of what the _Picana_ is, Gary?"

"Go to hell."

"I've been in the business for years soldier, you can be more creative than that, can't you?"

This man was starting to piss him off. "Any way, to put it simply, the Picana is something that delivers a high voltage but low current and is used in electric shock, to a… Torture victim. It is connected by wire to a control box with a rheostat to raise or reduce the voltage. Power is supplied by a car battery or by a transformer connected to a mains wall socket."

The man proceeded to pull out what Gary assumed was these objects from the bag, but he couldn't tell seeing as he was tied down to a fucking table.

"The victim is usually undressed and then tied to a chair or table or hung upside down by the ankles. Given your current predicament, you can see I've been kind - this time. I left you with your clothes and dignity. This wont be the case again if Simon chooses to not answer my questions."

He turned pointedly at the Lieutenant, an arrogant looked etched into his aged features.

"Often water is thrown over the victim to reduce the electrical resistance of the skin and to… Increase the effect of the shocks. I'm sure you have noticed this nice little room were in now haven't you?" The fucker turned a squeaky tap, and water flowed out of a rusted old shower head above him. "Genius, isn't it?"

"Fuck you!"

He spat the liquid out of his mouth towards his captors.

"Creativity, remember Gary."

The man smiled, sickly sweet. "Continuing on; two people operate the Picana. One adjusts the rheostat control to increase or decrease the voltage. The other holds the Picana and applies the tip of it to sensitive places on the victim's naked body. Common areas are: fingers, feet, the head, mouth, genitals, chest and nipples. Now, which would you prefer? Fun fact, applying it to the genitals can induced loss of control of bladder and causes unintentional urinating, whilst if the current passes through the buttocks, it will actually cause the victim to unintentionally… how do I put this? Defecate."

 _This man is fucking sick in the head! No way in hell do I want Simon to see me shit and piss myself._

"Hmm, maybe ill save that for a later… date. I think the hands and feet shall suffice, this time."

The sick fuck prepared his equipment, ready to shock him - any protest made by Ghost and himself falling on death ears. Apparently threats weren't very intimidating when being made from someone tied to a chair.

 _Im fucked._

Before he started, the Russian doused more of the stagnant tasting water on Gary before continuing to speak.

"You know, the distinguishing feature of the Picana, and what convinced me it was the right… "tool" for the job is that the shocks are high voltage and low current. That means that the shocks are generous, but the low current means they are less likely to kill the victim, enabling longer torture sessions and umpteenth more shocks to be given than with other current torture devices. You know what that means Gary?"

The man asked him before turning to his acolyte at the power source and nodding. "It means you're fucked!"

Gary Jumped before the shocking even started, it was beyond anything he'd ever felt.

He felt as if his limbs and were about to be blown off — or shaken off more. It was excruciatingly painful and he screamed. He had heart palpitations — and they felt like convulsions, everywhere. Every muscle in his body just leapt, he had no control over himself whatsoever. He felt like a frog in the laboratory, being picked apart at the seems and he was sure the pain couldn't get any worse. But it did. Every second that passed made it worse.

The sounds of the screams he was making from the pain must have been something awful, like howling of a rabid dog. He was pretty sure he could hear Simon screaming too - only in contempt.

He honestly thought he was going to die.

He couldn't breathe, his vision was fading. Until finally they stopped.

He was awake; alive. God knows how, but every muscle was still spasming and shaking, the pain certainly hadn't gone away and he so desperately wanted it to.

"You bastards!"

He could hear Simon somewhere in the background of his consciousness, and he groaned. "Gary? Fuck!"

"Shut up!" Ivan yelled before smacking his superior around the face with such a force, apparently he had been giving trouble to these arse holes.

 _Hope he gives them hell._

The pain was starting to ease a little now, but he was still shaking uncontrollably and he could taste the blood and vile that had risen in his mouth. It was foul and metallic, _like everything about this shit hole._

"Did you enjoy that Gary?"

He felt someone force his head in the direction of the voice, "I know I did. I wonder if you and your Lieutenant here are more willing to play my game after this particular escapade. Are you willing to tell me, Gary?"

Every part of him wanted to do anything to prevent that kind of pain again, but he couldn't. never.

"Fuck you!" He spat, blood from his mouth splattering all over the wet and white tiled walls. He sincerely hoped they enjoyed cleaning that. Ivan just growled at his response. Whether from rudeness or inconvenience, he didn't know. Irritably, the Russian turned to the other man.

"Simon?"

"Bite me you Russian bastard!"

If the situation weren't so dire Gary would have laughed.

"Hmph, so be it. I'm enjoying this anyway. Good luck, Sergeant. And this time? Do try to keep quiet, please. The racket you're making is giving me a headache."

Before he could even respond to the insulting request, the electrocuting began again. Now he wasn't sure if it was possible, but he was certain the pain felt worse than before. He wasn't sure what was worse, the convulsions that threatened to blow his limbs off or the constant burning and ripping sensation in every single fucking nerve in his body. It was so bad, he'd never once felt something like it before. Even the sounds of the sizzling, cracking of the electricity hurt his ears, or was that him?

In this profession you had to be able to deal with pain - it was a part of life. He could do that, and well. But not this, this wasn't any thing he could prepare for. It was enough to make even the toughest grown man cry for help.

So he did.

He couldn't do anything but let out screams; blood curling, strangled cry for help type screams. The pain that was so bad just wouldn't go away, and he couldn't take it any more. He just kept letting out pain filled noises, by this point without even noticing. He didn't have any control any more. What must've been merely seconds felt like minutes - hours. Nothing mattered to him any more except stopping this pain, but he couldn't tell them. He wouldn't. So he just held on.

Until finally he passed out.

* * *

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Time: UNKNOWN_

He came to with a thudding headache and shaking limbs, his eyes closed against the strong pain. The back of his skull throbbed badly; he bit out a curse and moved his hand to inspect the most recent damage – except it wouldn't move. He couldn't move.

Something was restraining his arms. His legs, too, were immobilized. _Fuck._ The violent hum of electricity streaking through the air assaulted his head, resulting in a grimace of agony. The stench of burning as well as the pain suddenly brought forth his memories of where he was, what they had done.

 _Holy fucking shit im actually still alive._

He felt shaky, like he wasn't even in control of his own body.

He started to panic, but every bit of strict military training started to kick in - he needed to focus. Assess the situation. Was he alone now? Were they still here and waiting for him to wake up; to enforce the pain on him for a second time? _Simon?_ _H_ _e was here, they made him watch!_ He tried to listen for any tell tale signs that would help him but with the thoughts running through his mind, all he could hear was a steady dripping echoing all around him. It seemed to come from a single source.

 _A runny tap, or a leak in the roof._

Then it hit him, they had doused him with water to exacerbate the effects of the electrocution. That explained the water, at least it wasn't his imagination or he hadn't been moved somewhere new. He remembered the excruciating pain and he pure force of it had been enough to force him unconscious.

 _Fuck._ _How long h_ _ave I_ _been out cold?_

His lips were parched and hunger growled in his stomach. _How long have we even been here?_

He needed to see if they were still there. He tried to crack open his eyes to better comprehend just how fucked he really was.

Part of him hoped he was alone, but another part of him was terrified of that. Half because isolation left him completely defenseless, but also because he wouldn't put it past these bastards not to do things no man would ever want to hear about to him whilst he was unconscious. At least if he wasn't alone, he'd know. Ignorance was not bliss, in this case. He wanted to know just exactly what the fuck they were doing to him. Actually he just wanted to get the fuck out of there. He hoped Simon had some sort of plan, Or that the Captain actually was coming for them.

His attempt to see was futile, however. Blackness continued to engulf him even as he moved his eyelids. _Shit._ He was blind; sightless, motionless and restrained. _Why?_

He decided not being able to see; the darkness, was his new phobia. Right now, he'd be happy to sit in any small, crowded room - granted he was safe, far away from this shit hole.

A new tremor of panic oscillated throughout his whole body. Without being able to see he was as good as dead, merely an animal awaiting slaughter. Not that they'd be that kind, he knew.

They'd keep him alive just enough to feel it all. Or until one of them broke. He was sure Ghost wouldn't though, so it was down to him.

That slight tremor increased in intensity until he physically shook. Or was that the after effects of being shocked? He didn't know. What he did know what pain, white hot burning pain.

He tried to wrench his arms free in attempt to remove whatever was covering his eyes. The darkness was becoming unbearable with each passing moment. He felt something digging into the flesh of his wrists at the movement, _probably something designed to punish me for moving, the sick bastards. They must be enjoying this_.

The more he tried to move they cut deeper into the skin, drawing blood, but by this point he was too desperate to care. His every instinct forced him to fight this unseen enemy, to escape and get the fuck away. But he couldn't. There was nothing he could do.

He was starting to understand Ghost's compulsion with having control now.

Ghost! They must have moved him somewhere else by now he decided, _The man certainly would have said something derogatory by now if he was still here. Shit. Hope he's still alive, they might have decided that they wouldn't get anything from the man and… fuck._

He snapped his head back in despair, hitting the metal table he he only just remembered being restrained to. He yelled out in frustration, a shout mingled with fury and panic. The stuffy air invaded his mouth, causing him to gag. Apparently they'd done that too whilst he was out - gagged him. _Probably because I was "making too much noise". Like to see the Russian bastard keep quiet whilst enduring that._

How hadn't he noticed the gag before though? It was chocking him, he could taste the distinctive metallic taste of blood mixed with something else foul.

 _Probably an effect of the electrocution, the blood._

Whatever it was, It felt like the filthy fingers of destruction were forcing their way down his throat, strangling him, then burning his insides. Slowly killing him. All figments of his imagination he realized, but it felt so real.

He suddenly felt something like a pinprick in his arm, but it stayed there for a few seconds before disappearing. _Fuck, they must have injected me with something._

He tried to cry out in protest, but he found that nothing but incoherent noises would come out.

All his strength was slowly beginning to diminish; he could feel the lethargy setting in, what did they drug him with? He tried to assess his symptoms to hypothesis, but he couldn't tell what was what any more, everything was a blur. He drew in ragged breaths, one after the another in another vain attempt to ensure oxygen was getting to his lungs. That just seemed to make everything worse; by breathing he was inviting the fingers to claw back down into his throat and lungs was sure that whatever deity was out there, that someone was taking a sick enjoyment out of seeing him suffer. Just as they always had his whole life.

A squeak from rusty hinges broke into his thoughts, an almost pleasant change from the sound of dripping water. But it made him wonder; was someone was coming in – or going out. Were they planning on leaving him there to die, or were they coming in here to watch?

Right now he didn't care, he couldn't breathe; needed air. And he wanted Simon - he was too afraid to be alone.

 _What the hell? I want Simon?_ He couldn't think any more.

That man - Ivan, appeared before him, a smug look on his hideous face. The man grabbed at the gag, successfully removing it before covering his face with a cloth. _Chloroform_ he guessed, accurately. He attempted to hold his breath, but then realized it wasn't going to make any difference, so he just gave up.

"Have a nice sleep, Sergeant. We'll have some more fun when you wake up, don't worry."

 _Oh god._ Was his last conscious thought before he let the darkness claim him back.


	6. Titanic

**_A/N: Sorry about the longer than usual time taken to update, had some serious writers block. Anyhoo, here's 6500 words of crap I hope you enjoy. Please, if there is anything I can improve on, do not hesitate to let me know. Criticism is very welcome, as are reviews - so please do._**

 _ **Thank you to the few people reading and following this story!**_

 _LT. SIMON "GHOST" RILEY_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Status: [MIA/POW]_

Simon groggily opened his eyes, well eye. The other one was swollen almost shut, apparently these guys didn't have the same dry sense of humour he had. _Must be an English thing._ They hadn't really take kindly to his threats he made to rip their fingers and limbs off one by one, then to leave them to bleed out and slowly but painfully die. Wasn't his fault - they deserved it, after what they made him watch them put Gary through. But apparently he and his wit had been bothersome enough to beat up and inject with some stupid fucking drug that knocked him out. He was just glad he was getting to them, they had bad tempers.

 _They seem to be very angry and aggressive, perhaps that could be taken advantage of… or it could just mean we're more fucked._

The last he remembered before obviously passing out was his body not responding to his feeble attempts to get free and screaming bloody murder. He hoped they hadn't done anything to him whilst he was knocked out, but he wouldn't put it past them. He was bloody sore and breathing hurt some, but it was nothing too serious in a situation like this - he seemed to be okay for now.

The same couldn't be said for Gary though.

 _These bastards are sick, sure this is a war and they want the information, but this seems to be about more than just facts. There's too much thought and planning into their actions. If they wanted to be most efficient they'd fucking go all out - make the pain constantly unbearable for both of us until one of us cracks. Instead, they're taking the time to mess with out heads; utilise psychological torture, and enjoying doing it too. No one who just wants information enjoys waiting for it. No, they're must be an ulterior motive 'ere._

"Great. Just fucking great." He muttered after coming to that conclusion.

That meant it was unlikely that they would manage to escape.

Groaning, the professional side of him attempted to asses his surroundings. There was no tell tale signs of the dripping water from the days previous escapade. In fact, he couldn't hear anything but his own shallow breathing. That, amalgamated with the fact that the room was pitch black and fucking cold, Simon made the assumption that they'd moved him back to the original "room" they had woke up in - to him it was more like a rotten old prison cell.

He didn't know how long had passed before the door swung open, revealing some men dragging along a limp and dead looking Gary. _Shite._ He didn't look good. So Simon gave his best glare, and had the situation been reverse he was sure the victims would be shaking in their boots. But they weren't.

The worst part was, these people were laughing, as if this situation was merely a joke to them. He could hear them muttering profanities to each other in Russian; about what they did, and about how they made the kid scream from his rough translation abilities. _I should probably brush up on my Russian._ He also thought he caught mentions of phrases such as: "wonder what _game_ the boss has planned today", and "I hope he cries like a little bitch".

 _So this was a fucking game to them?_

God he wanted to hurt these people; wanted to smash their faces in with his fist until they were nothing but unrecognizable piles of shit.

 _When we get out of here, these men better know how to play my game. Hide and seek - only, in my version they run for their lives until they die._

He didn't dare say anything this time though, he knew they would only take it out on Gary, and the kid couldn't really take much more at the moment.

Unfortunately, they seemed to notice his change of tune.

"What, nothing smart to say… English." That sparked something in him - pure anger and rage. He hadn't been called that in years, and it brought back a heap of memories he just wanted to forget. His icy blue eyes burnt psychological holes into their skulls.

"What did you just fucking say?"

 _How the hell do they know about that? I need to fucking know._

"You heard. We know all about your past Mr. Riley, about what you went through and what you did to survive. How you got your family killed… just like you will your little friend here."

The man was obviously trying to get a rise out of him, and it worked. It wasn't his fault… or was it? He didn't know any more, all he knew was that he was furious and he hated these people.

"Go to hell you fucking bastard!I'm going to fucking kill you!"

He struggled against his restraints, but it was no use. He wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't hurt them so he gave up, not listening to their taunting about how there was nothing he could do.

He was not going to let them get in his head and play mind games. He was better than that. He had more control than that - his mind was the only thing left that he had control over, and he wasn't letting that go.

The Russian man who called him English just laughed, dumping and kicking the Sergeant into the cold floor before spitting on himself and turning to face the doorway in a plan to leave the room. At least he hoped the men would leave the room.

"Do try to behave simon, really. Ivan will be here soon enough and I can assure you, he wont tolerate such… asinine behaviour."

He indicated at Roach, grinning like a mad man. "And I don't know how much more he can take. We're really enjoying this game, so keeping him alive as long as possible would be much appreciated, da? Better make sure he's ok… English."

He let out a deep growl in warning - this head fuck better stop soon.

There were so many fucking things wrong with that statement. First there was the obvious reference to his past, but more importantly, of course he was going to make sure Roach wouldn't die - or as best he could. Problem is, he wouldn't have to fucking make sure the kid was "ok" if they hadn't fucking electrocuted him!

"Speaking of… It's probably best we remove those restraints so you can get to him, no? Hmm, well I have a feeling you might try to kill me if I take them off. It's best you don't. In fact, ill give you a little demonstration of what will happen if you try anything funny."

He walked back over to were Gary lay, unconscious still.

Pulling what looked like some form of scalpel from his back pocket, who he assumed was Ivan's right hand man slammed the "pointy end" down, plunging it right into the young man's hip.

 _Oh god._

He winced as there was an audible cracking sound that made even him want to cry out in pain. That was definitely going to do some damage - not fatal damage, but painful damage nonetheless. He was glad the Sergeant was knocked out, and a bit surprised he hadn't woken up, albeit he saw a slight frown play on his lips - _Probably pumping him full of so much drugs he wont even know what ways up or who he is._

"Remember Simon, one false move and the Sergeant gets it. Only next time? Ill make sure he's awake to feel it, and you're awake to hear him scream like last time. Do we have an understanding?"

Ghost just nodded, glaring - not trusting himself to say anything that wasn't straight from the mouth of the devil himself.

"Good."

He man idly undid whatever was restraining him, not holding back of the roughness - successfully drawing blood from his wrists. And finally with that, he left them alone. Finally.

 _Good riddance._ The man made his skin crawl. Or was it bugs and parasites from this filthy place, he couldn't really tell.

Sighing heavily, he turned to the younger man. Dreading what he would find upon closer inspection. Though the lighting was still god-damn awful, his eyes had adjust to the darkness some and he was able to see more clearly.

He would never get used to seeing such a strong bloke - mentally and physically, looking so vulnerable. Gary was supposed to be the kid that when knocked down, he got back up. Not this broken, battered vestige of the previous person before, who probably couldn't even get back up even if he wanted to and tried to. There seemed so many marks and what would soon be scars not so different from his own in such a small amount of time. But he was being naive if he thought that what he had thus far was a lot, hell he had more.

But soon, the Sergeant would have too.

He thought looking at the most recent damage to be a good idea. Though the wound in his hip was flowing with blood, he knew it wasn't fatal, as painful as it looked. He did need to tend to it ASAP though before it turned more serious however.

Tearing off new bits of his clothing, Simon quickly attempted to put pressure on it to stop the blood flow until it sufficiently clotted. Then, he secured the fabric by tying it around the man, not having any other option. Now that was dealt with he could examine the rest.

Though it had been hours since the shocking, he could see fine tremors still running through the young man's battered body.

Those bastards had kept it going way longer than they should have, a very poor decision on their part when he got his hands on them for revenge.

He knew full well that the effects of shock treatment could be permanent; causing both nerve and tissue damage. He couldn't know for certain if this would be the case for Gary. He hoped not, the military was the man's life. He'd be discharged for sure if that was the case. Then again, maybe after this ordeal Gary wouldn't want to be part of it any more, any way.

He doubted it though, the kid was tough; resilient. This was his life and he worked hard for it, his friend wouldn't just give that up. He knew he wouldn't. Didn't he? Part of him hoped this was the truth and not just his own wishes.

Gary was the only person he considered a friend these days, the only one he truly cared about. He didn't want to lose him. He wouldn't let them take it away from him. Not again. He'd gone through tragic loss before, and he didn't much care for it.

 _Funny how in this situation it's reasonable and ok to care about another man in such a way. It takes the prospect of death for us to even think about our feelings._

But he only cared about him as a friend, right?

 _Is what I'm feeling just friendly camaraderie, or is it something more? Fuck. What they hell, that was a sporadic thought._

It suddenly dawned on him that he had, in fact, actually looked forwards to talking and spending time with the quiet Sergeant in the past few weeks. Found himself in situations that were almost deliberately involved with the Brown eyed man. He had never once sought out friendship in that kind of way. This new found revelation scared him; terrified the living daylights out of him.

 _What the fuck am I feeling? Why the fuck am I even thinking about this? I have bigger fucking problems right now, and I'm spending my time on these prissy thoughts? Man up, Simon. Fuck._

He wanted to forget about these thoughts and focus on getting the fuck out of here. But the question just staying there nagging at the back of his mind, desperate to be heard; and answered.

Fuck he was so conflicted.

And tired. Bloody tired, he just wanted to sleep. He couldn't even think straight any more. How long had it been? Gary was sleeping after all, so why couldn't he? He just didn't care any more about staying awake. It wasn't worth it.

 _LT. SIMON "GHOST" RILEY_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Status: [MIA/POW]_

He was going through a familiar scene from his past in his sleep when a nudge disturbed him. Not that he minded in the least, he hated the nightmares that visited him so often. He hoped it was Gary waking him up though and not those Russian bastards. He was sure they wouldn't be that gentle however.

"Roach?"

"How long was I out Simon?" the other man managed to enquire through gritted teeth and the obvious pain.

 _Shit. How long was it? A few hours? A day? Half a day? Yeah, that sounds about right. Ill go with that._ "'Bout half a day mate."

"Heh. Fuck. You look like hammered shit by the way." He snorted at the honesty.

"Thanks bug, could say the same about you."

Apparently Gary had perked up a bit since he was last awake, at least that was a good sign. "By the way, how's the hip, as well as your general nervous system and all that shite? You were pretty fucked after.. all that."

"It's.. yeah."

"Yeah?" He teased and prodded at the man's rather taciturn response.

"Yeah."

 _He's not giving me much information here._

"Not goin' to die on me, are ya?" _Better to ask and be safer than sorry._

"Nah." He paused. "What did they do any way, to my hip?" Simon sighed, not really wanting to tell Roach about that it was his fault he attained yet another injury.

"Stabbed you with a scalpel, think it could have a hairline fracture. Make a nice cracking sound when it happened."

Gary's bruised face scrunched up at the thought.

"Ah. Fun."

 _Probably at the thought of being touched while he's not awake, kid hates being touched in general. Took me ages to bloody just be able to pat him on the back._ He remembered asking about it once and the response was merely just:

" _Never associated being touched with anything good." how very cryptic. Not._

Didn't take a genius to figure out what he meant, but simon had been pleased the first time Gary had accepted a loose arm around the shoulders, it was merely a few weeks ago - but felt like a different life time right now.

 _Wait, why the hell am I thinking about being pleased to touch Gary? What the fuck is wrong with me?_ He didn't talk for a while, trying to control and understand his thoughts.

"Sorry by the way." Roach added after a few minutes of the silence, he was looking at him with an odd expression - like there was something on his face.

Now that confused Simon, he looked back at the younger man as though it would give him answers. Instead he was met with scared, guilt filled dark brown eyes that looked somewhat haunted.

"What you on about mate?"

"Was weak, screamed like a bitch, passed out. I let you down by not being strong enough to take it. I, uh, I never wanted anyone to see me like that, let alone you."

 _So that's what it's about. Wait what does he mean when he said specifically he didn't want me to see him like that?_ He decided to ask.

"What do you mean, let alone me? I let you down mate; caused you more bloody pain by bein' a hot headed idiot, and I'm the one who's sorry."

Gary snorted disbelievingly.

"You shouldn't be. You're a tough bastard, you wouldn't react like that. I just wanted it to stop, I was so willing to do whatever it took to stop the pain, but I couldn't. because you wouldn't. …I look up to you and respect you, a great deal actually. And I really want to blow this place up too."

He awkwardly changed the subject at the end, obviously uncomfortable talking about such things.

That made Simon smile, he'd never admit it, but hearing that meant a lot to him. But then he frowned, remembering the first part of Gary's little speech.

"Look Bug, you didn't tell them anything, and that's damn well good enough for me. I ain't too proud to admit it fucking hurts - what they did and what they'll do. Trust me when I say this, I know men who have cracked from lesser evils. As for the blowing up part, I'm more than happy to assist."

"Thanks. _God_ we're a bunch of soppy bastards."

"Must be the lack of food. I'm starving - would kill for a steak."

"Well, judging by how I feel right now, you may just get one sooner than you thought."

"Delicious." Simon laughed, more so at the absurdity of the situation than the feeble attempt at a joke. Truth be told, there was nothing funny about being treated like a piece of meat, but it was nice to see the Sergeant joking with him again. He wasn't sure he'd ever get to see the charming side of the young man again.

Oh god, what the hell was wrong with his feelings today? Why the hell was he thinking about Gary fucking smiling and being charming whilst they were being fucking held prisoners of war?

Gary cocked his head at him, an unusual sly smile playing on his lips. _Oh god why must he look at me like that whilst im going through a crisis like this? No, it's not me - its the stress of the situation, and they probably drugged me with something that messes with what I feel, so they can see me suffer slowly. Yeah, I'll go that, ill be fine once we get back to base._

"You've gotta stop flirting with me mate."

 _Tell me about it._

He didn't dare say that though. "Suddenly funny now, eh? You've gotta stop try'na make jokes mate, its just not you. Im starting to really worry about your mental state now."

Then he started thinking,

 _holy shit, am I flirting?_

"Eh. So… Wanna make a wager on what they do to us next?"

"Not really. What happened to quiet Gary?" He had meant it in a teasing way, but he was sure he could see the hurt on the other man's face - oops, he hadn't meant that badly. He thought himself a right dick for saying that.

"Sorry."

"That's not what I meant mate, I like it when you actually talk, a lot less effort for me really. But this is a new tune for you, why the change?"

"Dunno. Tryna make this place bearable. Also want an opinion."

Sighing, he thought about that for a minute. He could understand that, he knew the more they let this place get to them; the worse it would be. Positivity and humour was certainly something for them to exploit, though that could be the culture of self reliance talking; opting for denial and pretending problems don't exist to avoid talking heavily about them. To avoid admitting to needing help. Hell, he even felt the same way. But god, did they ever need help. though pretending things weren't as bad as they were seemed by having a joke appeared like a pretty good option right now. _To hell with military protocol and assessing the situation with the utmost propriety and care. We're already in Hell anyway._

"10 Pounds on water-boarding… Or any other kind of attempted drowning through submersion into water. "

"Fuck I hope you're wrong."

"Am I ever?"

"Yes." He feigned hurt and shock, _the nerve of the kid_ he thought jokingly _._

"When? Prove it mate."

Gary opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the door swinging open, squeaking loudly on its rusted hinges.

 _Bloody hell, we were havin' a moment_.

"Morning, gentlemen."

"Morning? And here I thought it was evening." Gary muttered sarcastically. He had to snicker at that, apparently Roach's sense of humour hadn't diminished, but been exacerbated by the situation. He could see the fear etched onto the young man's face though, albeit it was well hidden; only readable to him.

"There's no need for belittlement and sarcasm, pest. That's what you call him, no?" he indicated at me before continuing. "Im beginning to see why."

"Oi, that's Roach to you mate."

That earned a slap to face.

"I ought to wash your mouth out with soap and water, both of you!" The bastard spat. "Although, with today's planned activities, I'm sure that could be arranged."

 _God I hate that arrogant fucking smile on his face. Cant wait till I get to wipe it off him - permanently._

"Blindfold them and grab them."

 _Bastard wont even do the bloody dirty work himself._

He suddenly found himself being grabbed and restrained by the same arse hole from yesterday, he really wasn't looking forward to not being able to see. Next to him, Gary was in a similar predicament, albeit the younger man let out a stream of rather colourful curses he was actually quite proud of when they hauled him to his feet and his beaten body couldn't support himself fully, resulting in him collapsing on the ground in a heavy heap.

"I, eugh, I think you were right Simon." Gary managed to groan out before they dragged the kid away from him. He dropped his head in defeat and regret.

 _I know._

He hated being right. Also, he didn't know what was worse, watching what they did, or hearing the screams of pain and not knowing what was going on. Probably the latter, so he hoped they weren't being separated.

"Walk." someone suddenly demanded.

 _Where the fuck to? Bloody idiots, I cant bloody see._

"Forwards. Now!"

"Alright, alright." _Rude and lazy._ He started walking, slowly to piss them off.

* * *

As it went, they would steer him in the right direction while he walked by grabbing his hair and yanking it rather hard to turn. It wasn't the most painful thing - at least to his standards, but it was bloody annoying. He was glad he had a thick head of hair, because he was sure he'd be bald from the roughness of them if he didn't.

Finally, they reached their destination, or so he assumed because they stopped and he heard a door shutting behind them. He suddenly found colour filling his vision - albeit not much, before being shoved to a rickety old chair and being tied rather tightly to it. He took in his surroundings; the room had more light than the previous room, but it was dirty and dusty with cracked tiles featured on both the walls and floor.

 _What the hell is this place? They obviously don't want us to know that because they keep blindfolding us in our… "Travels"._

What got his attention though, was an old, disgusting looking large bath tub in the corner of the room. And Gary being placed next to it whilst being pinned down. It was currently being filled with icy water. _Oh god no._ He knew what was coming. One glance at Gary, and he knew by the dread in his usually intense but kind chocolate brown eyes he knew too.

The look he returned must have been terrified though, for the younger man - not himself, because he found the Sergeant giving him a half hearted smile - more like a grimace, and mouthing the words "it'll be alright."

It wasn't and it wouldn't ever be alright, in his opinion.

He heard a scraping sound next to him, and he turned to see Ivan had dragged a chair next to his position and had sat down.

"Lets have a chat, Simon."

His anger got the better of him and he snapped. "I'm going to fucking kill you!"

"Yes, you've told me this, though I still do not see how. You are only in control of your friends fate, not your own. That means if he dies, its because of you."

"Bull fucking shit! If he dies it's you fault, and I swear to god, if he dies I will fucking hunt every single one of you down and kill you!"

Ivan just laughed in his face, " I'd like to see you try. I plan on letting you die before him, so when he does, he'll be all alone and it will be when he succumbs to his injuries. He'll die terrified, alone and most of all, slowly. Because of you."

"Fuck you!"

"Now, now. I assure you, he will not die today - where's the fun in that? Anyhow, the bath appears to be almost full. How exciting."

 _The fucking sick bastard._

"Only if you're a deranged psychopath."

"You've done this to people before Lieutenant, we're not so dissimilar - you and I." Now that resonated with him somewhat.

 _No! He's just trying to get to me, I never did it to someone that was innocent - they all deserved it and I didn't have a choice. Plus the information was pivotal to peoples survival; the needs of the many and the needs of a few and all that crap. I am not like this bastard at all._

"Tell me, Simon, do you know how long the average man can hold his breath underwater?"

He just gave his darkest glare to the man, of course he knew.

"30 seconds. Though, young Gary here isn't exactly your average man now is he? Now how long do you think he can hold his breath? A minute, a minute 30? You're his lieutenant, you should know. Let's see if we can push him for 2. Dr. Reklov, if you will."

"No!"

The men around the room jumped into action. He couldn't do anything but watch them dunk a struggling Gary under the cold water. They barely gave the young man any time to get a breath before hand.

He screamed profanities at the whole room of people while the seconds ticked by. He could see Gary trying to struggle against the strong hands pinning him under, to no avail however. He, himself, struggled against his restraints, the metal digging into his wrists and drawing blood yet again. He didn't care - he had to stop them.

"I swear to god, you're fucking dead men!"

"Please do try to refrain from using the lords name in vain, its quite offensive."

He scoffed, offensive? He would show them offensive.

"1 minute 27, 33 seconds to go. Simon, did you know, when the subject makes the first involuntary breath whilst drowning they are usually still conscious. This is most unfortunate, because the only thing worse than running out of air is breathing in water. It must be painful. I wonder how the Sergeant is doing."

"Fuck!"

"in 90% of people, water will flood their lungs after the first intake of involuntary breathing occurs and this will be waning to the transfer of oxygen to the blood, thus the victim becoming weakened by oxygen depletion after some time. The process occurs exponentially; the longer it lasts, the quicker the person begins to die. Much like a sinking boat so to speak."

"Shut up!"

"In only 10% of people, when the inhaled water touches the windpipe, it creates a contraction around the victims larynx. As a result, the body will deem drowning more of a threat than running out of air itself - this is called a laryngospasm Simon. Its really quite a powerful thing - overcomes the breathing reflex and suffocates them; they will die with absolutely no water in their lungs. I wonder which fate our poor Gary will face."

He could see Gary beginning to struggle less and less, he hoped the man could hold on. He knew at full strength he probably could of, but he was fucking injured.

He truly wished it was him in the Sergeants position, he couldn't bare it. The guilt was eating away at him like a cancer eating away at a human body and soul - the very core of his being. His mind was yearning for remission from this constant malignancy, but the stain of guilt would always remain before him. There was nothing he could do to stop them, to help.

"2 minutes is up. Vitaly, release him."

Just In the nick of time too. Gary was blue; gasping for air that wouldn't fill his lungs fast enough. Simon could see the pain and how much it burnt by the expression on his face. But, he was still alive and that's all that mattered. He continued to try and catch his breathe before vomiting a rather watery liquid.

Ivan continued to speak.

"Are you prepared to give me the codes and location now, Simon?"

"Fuck you!"

"I thought as much. Vitaly, proceed."

"No! Gary!"

 _Not again._

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Status: [MIA/POW]_

He struggled to get enough air, the oxygen just wouldn't fill his lungs fast enough and he wasn't even in the water any more. _This fucking sucks._

But before he could try to breathe any more, he was shoved under again.

 _Fuck, I cant take much more of this._

It burnt at his lungs, the feeling of running out of air was absolute agony, but his instincts to not breathe were somehow managing to overcome the excruciating torment of drowning. The burn wouldn't go away, it was getting worse every second - he just wanted it to stop. He tried to struggle, but his attempts were futile - he was in no position to win the fight back to the surface. His arms and legs had become solidified like a statue from lack of oxygen.

He didn't know how long he'd been under by now, he'd lost count but it felt like eternity. He could tell he was on the verge of losing conciousness, there was white spots ebbing at his vision; eating away at his self control. It burnt like lava being poured down his throat.

Eventually, the need to breathe was too strong, he had to exhale. Unfortunately, unable to resist, this in turn caused him to inhale.

 _Bad idea._

The inhalation made everything feel tight around his throat and nostrils, made the burn worse. It felt like a fiery but wet knife being shoved down his oesophagus. This caused him to be in a state of panic. Sheer an utter panic.

Gary lost awareness of whether he was breathing in or out, he just couldn't tell any more. He couldn't even tell which way was up. The sensation was horrible; a mix of severe claustrophobia, smothering and white hot pain. Somehow, his instincts kicked in and he managed to stop inhaling the water, but the burn was worse than ever; it was morbid. He didn't have much longer.

Fear for his life was the last thing he remembered.

He realised at some point he must've passed out, because next thing he knew he was being pulled out of the icy water but the pain still wouldn't subside, nor would the air return to his lungs. He couldn't focus on anything but trying to get oxygen and the pain.

All Gary could hear was thudding and pounding in his ears.

He could feel himself being moved or dragged, but he couldn't tell which. All he could do was try and keep from dying by hyperventilating and trying to get air whilst he vomited uncontrollably. It was awful, the worst thing he'd ever experienced aside from the shocking. And he was cold - freezing, but at least he wasn't dead.

 _Im pretty sure pain means I'm not fucking dead, holy fucking shit._

* * *

He still could barely move a muscle, but slowly his senses were starting to come back to him as well as oxygen. He was sure he was being moved somehow. After a few more seconds he vaguely felt something bash heavily against him, or was it the other way around? It hurt. Yet again, he found himself completely winded.

Slowly his hearing was coming back to him, the cacophony of thudding noises had dulled to what sounded like a heart beat, and Gary could vaguely hear a voice. It sounded familiar. The voice sounded close.

"Gary?"

 _Gary? Oh wait, that's me. Fuck._

"You alright mate?"

 _Am I alright? I'm fucking cold. Wait, they just did that to me and im complaining about being cold? Fuck sakes Gary, get a fucking grip and grow a pair._

"Gary."

After a few more seconds, he then recognised the voice to be Simon's . _That must mean it's over, right?_ Slowly he turned his head to look at the older man - he looked both worried and relieved. "Thank god."

"H-hholy S-ssshit."

He stuttered in response through chattering teeth.

"C'mon mate, we gotta get you warmed up before you catch hypothermia. Sorry 'bout this."

"W-what?"

He questioned before he felt hands grabbing at his sides, grabbing at the drenched clothing; removing his jacket then successfully pulling any under clothing over his head to remove it. He was not comfortable with this. "N-nno, S-stop!"

He tried to stop Simon's actions but he didn't have the strength to do much.

"Sorry mate, its this or freeze."

He suddenly felt something dry and somewhat warm being wrapped around him. It was… nice. Nicer than before, anyway. He opened his eyes to see that the other man had in fact put his jacket on him. He suddenly didn't care so much about the other man removing his clothing, he was just glad to be somewhat warmer and drier.

"T-tthanks."

He decided to thank Simon rather then complain, he appreciated the effort made.

"Welcome, though you're gonna hate what I have to do next. Best way to regulate your body temp. Is to use my own body heat against yours. Not the ideal situation, but im not prepared to let you die."

 _Shit, im not even sure which one of us hates being touched more. Even if I try to fight it he wont let me, looks like I gotta bloody suck it up. Bollocks._

He felt so uncomfortable when he felt warm arms wrap around him, but he had to respect the validity and veracity of the Lieutenants solution - as well as the sentiment about keeping him alive and all. However, he felt inclined to put up some form of protest - to keep his masculinity in check. Sadly.

"N-nnot c-comfortable w-wwith T-tthis, S-simon."

"Mmm. Suck it up mate."

After about 15 minutes of sitting like that in silence he finally spoke, something that was bothering him since the Russians had interrupted them earlier on in the "day".

"Y-you were w-rong. W-wwhen you s-said it w-was your F-fault, y-you w-were wrong."

Simon looked at him, blue eyes full of curiosity and confusion.

"What'd ya mean, Bug?"

"I-it's not y-yyour fault, that w-were here. Earlier y-you said it w-was. It I-isn't."

"Hmm, thanks mate. Means a lot."

"Heh. Well, kinda means a lot you're tryna stop me from dying and stuff. Yeah. Thanks." God he felt awkward saying that.

"You're the only mate I got, plus this place'll be even worse alone."

"True. Hope they don't fucking try to drown me again though, or I'll make you let me die. Fucking sucks."

The other man sighed, "I can imagine, didn't look too great. Got an impressive lung capacity though mate."

"Used to swim." And he was damn glad about that too.

* * *

They did do it again - several times over the next few weeks, sometimes over and over again until Gary didn't retain consciousness. They seemed to enjoy doing that. The shock treatment made a comeback too, among other things like; breaking bones such as fingers and toes, burning with whatever they could think of, "playing doctor", force feeding through a tube… Gary would never look at food the same way again, nor tubes of any kind.

You name it and these bastards tried it, but they hadn't succumbed to the obsequious behavior the Russians wanted yet. Nor had they told them anything.

Gary just wanted to be back at base; it was home. He hoped desperately that someone was coming for them.


	7. Breaking The Chain

**A/N: Hi all,**

 **This chapter serves more as a filler to get the story where I want it to be, sorry if it's not very good. On the plus side, there's some news into our boys rescue now. Please read and review, and as always - Enjoy! (Hopefully).**

CPT. JOHN MACTAVISH

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: JANUARY 13th, 2015

TIME: 1403 HRS

It had been over a month since his Lieutenant and Sergeant had been declared MIA, or POW's - They didn't know for certain. For him, it had been over a month of late nights searching and scouring through every piece of Intel he could get his hands on whilst fulfilling his Captain duties as well. The guilt was eating away at him, they had disappeared under his watch; his command. If they never found them, he'd have to live with knowing it was all his fault. He just wasn't prepared for that to happen.

To say he was stressed would be an understatement. He hadn't found anything so far, not even an iota of indication as to where they might be. He was almost certain it must have been the man they had been going after - _Ivan_ _Kramopovik_ , and his acolytes, but they couldn't be sure. Still, his gut told him he was right. He had been in the game a long time, his intuition had to count for something, right?

Problem was, it was very unlikely that they would be any where near where they were taken - that would just be way too obvious. So basically they were searching for a needle in a haystack. A bloody very well protected hay stack.

All they knew about _Kramopovik_ was that he was a retired Russian LT. General, which meant that wherever he was, he more than likely had a lot of fire power and men at his disposal. It also meant there would be a large sum of money involved with the 141 members imprisonment to ensure security and intense harming methods - the latter being just a speculation, but a pretty guaranteed speculation nonetheless. They wouldn't hold them prisoners all this time and not use torture to get information.

All in all, he deemed that any attempt to rescue the men would be difficult and risky. There would be great deal of resistance and blood shed. He hoped it would be more so the opposite side than his, but he knew better.

The positive to the Russian's high up role however, was that; although he was kept on a very low profile for security reasons, it was only a matter of time before someone talked or they over heard something.

 _You cant be that important without someone knowing where you are. There's always a leak somewhere, and we will find it. We will find them._

And that's why they were so keen for their next task. They were to infiltrate an older military base on the outskirts of Russia to gather a piece of Intel the higher ups were sure was there. The only information was that it was electronic, on some device. Personally, he thought the mission was a bust, but that didn't matter. Now usually he wouldn't get his hopes up with finding a lead whilst on another mission, but 2 weeks ago there had been evidence of the man himself making an appearance on base. During a scouting op. There was bound to be something there, and if there was - they would find it.

 _There's always a trail, whether it be an animal out hunting or a fucking criminal out killing - everyone leaves a mark somewhere. That's the rule of nature, there's always one Muppet or one mistake that gives them away. And we're going to find it, hopefully before it's too late. If we aren't already._

Everyone on the mission and in the 141 knew how important this was; knew how important keeping their eyes and ears pealed for information was. They were a unit; a family, and they would go to the ends of the earth to rescue their own. No matter the risk. Just as any other military unit would be.

He trusted these men with his life - trusted in their abilities, but somehow, he didn't think everyone would come out of this alive this time. But it was a necessary risk that they would have to take - one they were all willing to take.

But still, he found himself going over every detail of that bloody mission back in Siberia looking for something, anything that could help them. But there was no evidence the event had even happened anywhere. They were like Ghosts… _Ghost._

Simon was a good man, a bloody brilliant Lieutenant. And Gary? Well Gary was brilliant too; he was profusely loyal and hard working - never let him down. He was also young, a good kid - still had a bit to learn though. But he was willing to learn, and that was important. He had learnt from and handled everything thrown at him thus far. He just hoped the Sergeant could handle this situation now - and the aftermath. He knew the kid was very introverted, had this culture of self-reliance instilled into him, courtesy of an unorthodox childhood. _So he probably wont even try to get help, no matter how much he needs it, he'll probably just want to get straight back into work._ Much like the Lieutenant himself he had realised. Those two were bloody similar.

 _At least it's Simon with him and not someone else. He's been through this before - he'll help him; protect him. Not that he needs protecting, but I know how much he likes the kid - he's like his little brother in a way. And I'll being doing my damn best to make sure the bloke doesn't have to lose another one._

He sighed, frustrated because there was nothing to be found with what little data they had. And there probably wouldn't be anything to find until 2300 when they were deployed for the operation, they hoped at least. Running a hand through his dark, mow-hawked hair, he decided it was useless.

What was the word to describe doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results? Was it insanity? He couldn't remember, but he thought it applied here. So he headed to the range to both make sure he was at his best and to release some of his pent up anger and frustration by your basic "shooting at a target until it was absolutely obliterated and annihilated". That sounded like a bloody good idea to him at the moment. But the only thought really running through his head was:

 _We better bloody find something - them, soon._

He didn't think he'd ever gotten so intense at the range as he did in those hours.

CPT. JOHN MACTAVISH

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: JANUARY 13th, 2015

TIME: 1403 HRS

This was it. This was the only real chance they would get to find out where they were, and he was fucking angsty to get in there and do his job. More so than he had ever been before. All that filled his mind now was pure determination and anger - they would find something, or there would be hell to pay.

The team had finally boarded the chopper, and he could tell that each man was as determined as himself.

It was only a few hours before they would reach their destination to parachute in, hopefully that would all go according to plan. Time was of the essence.

Then they would go in - stealth being their best option as they just wanted to get the data, look for Intel and get the fuck out. There was no need for this to get hot and the base wasn't very big, so he wasn't particularly worried about injury if things went hot, just the time frame. Then again nothing ever went to plan, nor was it ever as simple as it was supposed to be. Murphy's Law and all that, seemed to apply to him every day lately. But that's why they were the 141; they could and would adapt and get the job done.

However, if there was ever a time when they needed luck to be on their side, today was the day. He looked around, observing everyone's behaviour; everyone was quiet which was unusual. Even Meat, which was a feat in itself seeing as he didn't even know the bloke could be quiet for more than 10 seconds. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing to be honest. Nice lad though, just… Boisterous.

When he looked around, he caught Archer's piercing gaze. He could feel himself being read, as if the man was looking his very soul. It felt odd being so carefully scrutinised by a subordinate, he didn't say anything though, he knew Archer was just perceptive and sharp - that was why he was the sniper. He was bloody good at it. Surprisingly, the usually so stoic Englishman just smiled briefly; almost reassuringly.

"We'll get what we need sir, then we'll find them."

"Hoorah!"

Apparently each one of them had been listening in, for everyone in the team responded to that, intensely and supportively in a loud cacophony. Successfully proving that they were truly a team, a damn good one too. He was glad to be with these men on such an crucial mission.

He just hoped Archer was right. But he didn't have to wait for long, in just a few hours they'd know.

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Status: [MIA/POW]_

He was so sick of this obnoxious bastards constant explanation of the torture techniques they were using on him. And others they weren't. He didn't want to know, he didn't want to be there at all, but if he did he'd rather just get it over and done with, without this bastards sick, mental head-fucking game.

He was sure Simon was sick of it too, judging by the look on his face every time he was forced to watch - which was pretty much almost every time. He had tried to hold himself and his reactions to the pain together for the man's sanity, but it was a massive struggle. It was probably useless to even try, they knew what they were doing to them.

It had been weeks, or months - he wasn't sure, time seemed to just blend together now. He could barely form a coherent thought any more. His head constantly rang and throbbed. Actually, there was so much pain over his whole body and he could barely sit up, even whilst being supported by the shitty, wooden chair.

Right now the Russian was talking about the different burning techniques possible, and honestly, all Gary really wanted was to burn _Ivan's_ face off. He tried to contain his anger whilst the man told him frivolous information he really didn't want to hear.

"Some of the milder techniques, Sergeant Sanderson, would be cigarette burns. Albeit painful, they are not so serious. Though they often leave black scars on their faces if inflicted deliberately. Some of the most vicious have deliberately burned the faces of the most beautiful people, thus permanently disfiguring them. Such a shame. Do you smoke?"

"How riveting, I always wanted to know that. And no, it's bad for fitness."

He muttered sarcastically, he couldn't be bothered playing the man's game today. He knew where this was headed and he was not looking forward to it. The man laughed his sick laugh that Gary was used to by now.

"Don't worry Sergeant, you're already ugly enough by now. Moving on, however. Faces and even; eyebrows, chins, hands, thighs, or private parts can be burnt using this method. How painful."

He just made a face that screamed, _no shit. Sherlock._ Along with a scowl. _Right arse-hole._

"Especially made iron bars heated in burning charcoal until they become red-hot then placed against another's flesh and skin is also commonly used as a technique. The metal is then used to burn chests and thighs, or anywhere else imaginable. Now I think that would be fun to try, don't you think?"

"Fuck you!" The fucking bastard.

"Now, now, there is no call for foul language. Do you know why burning is so popular in this situation, young Gary?"

"Pretty fucking obvious, but I surmise that you're going to tell me anyway."

"Very perceptive. Burns inflict intense pain, and boost the skin's pain sensitivity. As superficial nerves are destroyed, some feeling is lost - but not much, according to experts. If burned slowly, the victim would experience the fullest possible torment, and if flames or something scoldingly hot were used, it would cause catastrophic damage to nerves and tissue. In these instances, death can occur when loss of blood and fluids brought on hypovolemic shock and pulmonary failure. Beautiful. Such a magnificent, excrutiating thing."

"That's very tendentious, im sure many would disagree with your opinion." he spat, sounding like quite the smart arse. Blood from the days recreations being displaced from his cut and bruised mouth as he did so.

"There's no need for such sardonic views Gary, you do not have to make me do this to you. You can stop me at any time by telling me what I want to know."

He hated this man with a vengeance. But he didn't have the energy to do much else, he was parched and starving. Had barely eaten or drank anything in weeks, aside from what these bastards had force fed him.

At that he shuddered, remembering as a tube was forced down his throat, forcing him to take in large amounts of water in short amounts of time. At a glance, this to some people might not seem as bad as some other torture methods. But, drinking too much water can result in water intoxication. And in his experience, it really fucking sucked. Apparently it was true; you could have too much of a good thing. Water intoxication encompasses muscle weakness, cramping, nausea, and vomiting he had soon found out. Ivan was kind enough to tell him that eventually, cells in the brain will swell, resulting in seizures, comas, brain damage, and death. Luckily for him it hadn't come to that, but it still fucking sucked.

But the vomiting definitely did occur, and that sucked.

Vaguely, he could still hear Ivan talking, but his head was pounding and he was too lost in thought to be paying any attention. Apparently that wasn't ok or acceptable behaviour, because he abruptly received a nasty burn to his torso from a white hot piece of metal.

"Fuck!"

He hissed at the sudden horribly overwhelming and incredibly sharp pain; it felt like it was throbbing and pulsating, but stinging him constantly as well. It fucking hurt. He wasn't sure if the sizzling sound he could hear was his skin or the metal bar from exposure from such heat, but he wanted it to stop. Even after they removed the metal bar from his skin it still burnt. The pain and throbbing sensation wasn't dulling, if anything it felt like it was being exacerbated by the removal of the object. That was probably just in his mind though. It was definitely still burning him though.

He hated burns, they were a fucking bitch.

Struggling to catch his breath from the surprise attack, Gary looked up to meet everyone's gaze; _hate, disdain, hate, enjoyment, oh look more hate, mirth. And hurt_ \- that look of course came from Simon. There was the familiar guilt in the dulling blue eyes and the expression he knew was a silent plea for him to still be alright - alive.

He knew how frustrated the man was by having to watch him suffer so greatly - it was starting to get to the Lieutenant too. He didn't know how much longer either one of them could endure this torment for. MacTavish had better be coming for them soon or he didn't know what would happen.

They - the Russians, continued this little episode for what he came to the conjectural opinion was hours, until he physically could not take it any more and his body failed him. The pain sent him into a convulsing and bloody mess. He had burns all over his body, arms and face. The feeling could only be described as unbearable - so much so that part of him wished himself dead. The rest of him wanted to lay in that bath full of ice water he so hated previously, that's how god-awful it felt.

His skin felt like it was blistering, like the devil himself was nefariously threatening to peel it off any second as though it was merely a veneer for his weakening muscles - an unnecessary organ in his body.

He felt the now long-familiar feeling of being dragged through the corridors back to that dreaded room. They'd long since stopped blindfolding him for that little journey after realising he was barely conscious most of the time anyway - it just wasn't worth the time nor the effort.

 _Lazy gits._

As usual, once they reached their destination he was dumped unceremoniously on the hard and cold floor in a heap. Not garnering or possessing the energy to move he just laid there, wishing for the ground to swallow him whole so he wouldn't have to do this any more.

He faintly heard Simon shuffling to sit next to him, but he didn't have the energy nor the care to move or speak to him just yet. He felt hands on him, gingerly moving him - but now the hands were gentle, so he just let them do their thing. He didn't care any more, he felt disgusting and wanted to go home. Or go any where away from here. Honestly, he just wanted to cry, and he hadn't done that since he was a little kid.

 _Call me a wuss, but until you've walked in my shoes…_ He just didn't give a shit what anyone would think any more. In any case though, with struggle, he managed to push away any tears that threatened to flow. He just couldn't.

Opening his eyes, he found himself now able to see the other man who was looking at him worriedly. Studying the concerned face, he now noticed stress and age marks he was sure were never there before. Or maybe it was just dirt, who knew?He didn't, he was so close to losing it now he realised that he couldn't even think straight. He just wanted the pain to go away.

"You doin' alright now mate?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but he found he couldn't. he just couldn't. The words wouldn't come out. He tried and tried again, but each time all he was awarded with was shortness of breath, until he finally couldn't breathe and reached a state of panic.

He started hyperventilating, and after some time of struggling to get air in, he was pretty sure there were some tears and sobbing too, but in his nebulous state, he didn't pay it much head or care. Every thing was spinning out of control. He wanted to breathe, but the oxygen just wouldn't get in his lungs.

 _Holy shit, holy fucking shit._ He thought, terrified. _I cant take this any more._

 _I just want to die._ _W_ _hy wont they let me just fucking die._

He continued like that for several minutes, same mantra being repeated over and over in his head before the spinning slowly began to subside from something unknown but comforting that was warm on his back. He could now hear the other man talking.

"It's alright mate, shh. You're 'avin a panic attack, you'll be alright - just breathe. Yeah, there ya go."

He found himself focusing on the Brits rough voice, finding it soothing somewhat. _What an oxymoron._ He then noticed the unusual wet sounding tinge to the usually gruff vocals.

Looking up he saw a few tears running down the usually so stoic man's scarred face and the pure sadness in his eyes. To his horror, he then realised that he must've said all that out loud. He'd just said he wanted to die out loud, to his friend who was scared for his life already.

"Oh god." He sobbed, just losing it - not being able to hold back. He didn't have control over his emotions any more. Everything was chaos in his mind, and he couldn't understand was starting to crack.

"M'Sorry." he mumbled after a few minutes, sobbing subsiding somewhat. Now finding himself face down into Simon's shoulder, warm arms wrapped around him consolingly. Gary felt awful. He shouldn't have let himself say that, he shouldn't have lost it like that, he shouldn't hav-

"You're alright, don't worry about it. I don't care, it's alright to cry mate. Just breath for me, alright?"

He just nodded, the man's words really hitting home for him.

 _Is it really alright to cry?_ _I_ _s he not judging me?_ _Y_ _ou fucking twat Gary, of course he's not judging you - he cares about you._ _W_ _ait, what?_ _W_ _hy?_ _T_ _he hell am I on about? Oh well, I should probably apologise for saying that._

"I didn't mean to say that, im sorry." He found he could speak now, thank god.

Simon continued to hug him, patting his back in a friendly gesture before responding.

"I'm not shocked or surprised that you did Gary, I'd be more worried if this whole thing wasn't seriously getting to you, honestly. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt me to hear it of course, but just calm down ok? It's fine. You're fine, I've got you."

Neither of them knew why Ghost had said that, but it helped. Gary realised he felt safer; warmer, with his friend, although for how long he didn't know.

"My face hurts."

"Looks bloody sore."

"Glad they didn't burn off my hair."

"Me too, then id have ta look at an ugly bald mother mother constantly." The other man teased, trying to lighten the mood. " 'Sides, I like your hair."

"Heh. Flirting again."

"Bugger."

He just shut his eyes, too tired to converse any more. They stayed like that for about 10 minutes, until the darkness finally washed over him and he fell asleep.

CPT. JOHN MACTAVISH

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: JANUARY 13th, 2015

TIME: 0103 HRS

They had just reached the perimeter of the base and thank the lord, they were still undetected. From his cover, he could see their destination - a moderately sized, old building that said " _authorised_ _personnel_ _only"._

 _We'll soon be authorised, don't you worry._

There didn't seem to be too much resistance in their route, looked like things were looking up currently, but that didn't mean they could afford to be slack in return for speed. He sent Meat and Worm to plant the explosives around the other areas of the Russian base, just in case things got hot and they had to get out quickly.

"Charges set." They quickly advised him through comms.

"Good work boys, meet up at the rally point. Oscar mike out."

He turned to those who were behind him, eager to get in there and get the job done. Archer, you and Toad cover us from the South. Got it?"

"Yes sir." Was the determined reply.

"Everyone else, lets go. Remember; sneak in, sneak out." They all nodded in unison.

They headed off, creeping through the snow - blending easily and becoming almost invisible to their enemies. "Tango's on the right." He stated, "Take them out."

They made simple, quick and efficient work of the first set of them and they still seemed to be undetected. "Move up." He quietly hoped there wouldn't be many more in their way.

They continued on as quickly as possible until they finally reached their last bit of solid cover before the building they needed to get in. There was about 9 men directly in their way that they'd have to do something about fast. Problem was, with a group that large, someone was bound to notice a problem. If they were to suddenly walk upon a large group of their own men dead in their own ground, the whole base would soon be on high alert. Unfortunately, that was a risk he was willing to take right now. They would just have to double time it when they got the information, then they'd leg it as fast as possible. They didn't have the time to wait any longer.

He signalled for everyone to pick a target and shoot on his go.

"3, 2, 1. Shoot."

There was a melody of ping's before men started dropping to the ground in front of them, red blood seeping slowly into the stark white snow; littering the place with death. He scoured around to see if there was any one they had missed. Thankfully, it appeared there wasn't for the moment.

"All clear, let's move."

They all quickly reached the door, ready to breach. He kicked it in with such a force, before raising his gun to shoot anyone in their path. Clearing out the first room with haste and precision, they then moved to the next room. Clearing that one as well. They made their way to the centre, making quick and quiet work before Meat called over the comms.

"Approaching you from the North, this side is all clear sir."

 _So far so good._

"Meet us in the middle, there's two entrances to the lab, you guys get the other side. Keep your eyes pealed."

"Roger."

They reached the target room and both sides breached simultaneously, successfully catching the tangos off guard. The managed to take everyone out in under a minute before searching the room for the data and any information they could find on Ghost and Roach. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, eager to find something. He could also feel what he would define as something between nervous and fearful, but not for his own safety.

He quickly made his way to the computer, looking for any obvious Intel. He knew he was looking for something electronic, but he wasn't sure exactly what. Then his eyes scanned over what was something like a USB or data chip. It was already plugged into a turned on computer with a dead body behind the desk. Thinking he had nothing to lose, he quickly perused through all the files on the device. It was mostly just data about weapons and shipments of supplies, but then he saw something that caught his eye. The name _Makarov._

Clicking the file, it opened revealing precious information about the man and his plans. _Found it._ It wasn't much, but it was better than the close to nothing they had before. At least they had found what they were after.

 _Now, to find the Lieutenant and Sergeant._

Looking through the computer, he attempted to see if there was anything there on them. After a minute he decided there wasn't. _Shit._ He quickly looked around the desk, but there wasn't anything.

Quickly making his way to the other side of the room, he scavenged through the junk that was beside him in his path. _Nothing._ But then he spotted another bunch of desks covered in files. Searching through these, he had to find something. They couldn't not. _If there is, these bastards are doing a damn good job of_ _hiding_ _it._

"Fuck!" he exclaimed after several minutes with no luck whatsoever.

"Sir?" Royce called from behind him

"Yes?" He replied, the frustration ever present in his voice. Now wasn't the time for distractions.

"We may have found something. It could be them." That got his attention fast. He quickly hurried over to look at what they had found. They were at a desk, similar to the other man's desk, but this one had a package on it.

It was a letter of some sort addressed to Ivan, with the man's location, or postal location, on it. If this was something big, whatever Muppet that left this lying around was going to be sorely disappointed in himself. Not to mention dead, he'd make sure of it - after thanking him of course. Opening the envelope, he found a syringe and a letter inside. He quickly read it;

 _Ivan,_

 _A_ _s per your request, I have been working on your little present for "new friends". They will be unable to bare the suffering this will inflict - I have tested it on many and can assure you; it works. Enjoy it, you will have everything you need with such a new found ease._

 _Everything else has been set up and is ready to go._

 _Regards._

 _V.K. Poamokev._

"We found something, sir?"

"Yeah, we got something alright! Let's get the hell out of here, we're leaving to go get them ASAP so be prepared. Sort out everything you need on our evac ride back to base. There wont be much of a layover time, so get some shut eye as well."

Finally, after so fucking long they finally had something. They might finally get them back. Now they just had to get out of Russia without being killed, and they could finally get onto their so needed lead.


	8. A lot Can Happen In Ten Minutes

**A/N: Hi all, again.**

 **Well, this chapter didn't quite go as well as I hoped or planned, but oh well. Work and life has been... hectic. And honestly, it is 1:18 am right now where I am, and I'm too tired to care. I apologize for any errors and a terrible chapter.**

 **Though, the original idea of the story was to be about Gary & Simon after such a situation has occurred, so at least now it is close to being in the right setting for that part. Anyhoo, now that their imprisonment is almost at an end, I assure you - the story isn't even close to it. **

**So, even though I'm not quite happy with it, I hope some of you will it least like this. Thanks for reading!**

 **Please do review and let me know what you think!**

* * *

CPT. JOHN MACTAVISH

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: JANUARY 15th, 2015

TIME: 0012 HRS

Ukraine.

They were headed to the Ukraine which was where they were hoping to extract their two men and bring them home. This was it. The most important mission he had been on since… _eughh,_ he didn't even want to go there. They had landed back at base to re-supply, and had gathered up any man and their dog that was trained to the required high standards to assist them, briefed them all in this all or nothing task, and they were off. The wheels were up within the hour.

Kharkiv - Eastern fucking Ukraine.

It wasn't even that fucking far from Russia, granted it was a whole 'nother country, but it was still fairly obvious. They should have been searching the areas near the bastards homeland, they possibly could've found them by now. But he couldn't focus on that right now, he needed to be ready and at his best; alert. In fact, they all did.

They had no idea how many people would be there, but he would bet his bottom dollar that there would be a lot. He also knew that it was likely that they would be being held right in the center of all the commotion, making their job even bloody harder.

 _Well, that's if they're anything smart - lord knows in this situation, someone comes eventually. You can't afford to be unprepared._ Suddenly he found himself questioning the out come of this desperate operation. _Are they expecting us?_

"10 minutes 'till the drop zone." The pilot called.

"understood!" he called back loud and clear.

10 minutes.

 _10 fucking minutes. Fuck I hope we win._

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: UNKNOWN_

 _Date: UNKNOWN_

 _Status: [MIA/POW]_

He woke up to something warm, which was an unusual change to the cold he was so use to lately that numbed his broken and battered body. It wasn't that he didn't like the warmth - it felt comforting and made him feel human again, kind of, but it meant he had nothing to numb the excruciating pain that just wouldn't leave him alone any more. Even opening his eyes was becoming a struggle he was so swollen and sore, albeit that could be the awful burns destroying his nerves and ability to move. They were still stinging, constantly scalding his skin.

Fighting the pain and resistance, he managed to slit one eye open ajar, enough to see what was so warm around him. _Oh, Ghost - Simon. Right._

They were both leant up against the wall in the position he assumed he must have fallen asleep in. Apparently the older man hadn't left him at all, which he was secretly grateful for. Though, there wasn't really anywhere else much he could move to. Still, the kind and supportive gesture wasn't lost on him. Then the memories of his last conversation with the man arose in his mind, he still felt awful about what he did; what he said. A little embarrassed too if he were being honest.

He didn't know or understand why he panicked so much, he was a highly trained soldier, a 26 year old man - he should not have lost his senses like that, it was stupid and childish.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid! You're a fucking twat Gary._

Simon should not have been subjected to seeing him make such a fool of himself. Granted, the man hadn't seemed too bothered bearing witness to the episode, but that did little to remedy the guilt and anguish he felt about it. He felt he should apologise again, in his opinion there really was no excuse for that. He didn't understand why he cared so much about it, the man had already told him it was okay, but that didn't matter, his mind wouldn't listen to reason any more. What mattered now was mitigating the problem; making it up to the Lieutenant.

He turned to face Simon again, barely able to, but somehow he managed. He was startled when he found himself being gazed at rather than the visage of a sleeping man that had been there just minutes previously. The gaze looked something between amused, confused and worried. Though to him, only the latter seemed valid feelings.

"What?"

he asked, curiously. Forgetting his previous mission to alleviate the remorse he felt.

"I could say the same to you, you've been mumbling for a while. Made out the word "stupid" a few times. Care to enlighten me into the land of the Roaches?"

 _Fuck._

"M'sorry about earlier, it was pathetic and weak and you shouldn't have seen that." He didn't feel that his apology did his sincerity or the other man justice, but it was a start. Though the other man just scoffed. _Probably disgusted at me. Who wouldn't be?_

"You really are a fucking idiot, aren't ya mate?"

 _What? I don't need telling twice to believe it, but what? That wasn't an anticipated response._

Giving Simon a look that displayed both confused and disappointed in question, the other man continued.

"You don't need to bloody apologise mate. I meant it when I said it was alright. Well, not alright, but expected and not something im going to judge or admonish you for. Hell, if we got out of this and you hadn't made any indication that you weren't mentally sound I'd put you in a mental institute for sure, myself. Take it from me, you don't go through that and just be ok. Mentally and physically. It's gonna take some time to get over it - if you ever truly will."

He thought about that for a minute.

 _What he said made sense, and he seemed genuine about not caring about the weakness he saw. But still, crying about it now isn't going to make any difference - and he's not crying about it like a wuss._ He just couldn't accept that his actions were okay.

"But I-" he was cut off.

"You need to look at this from someone else's perspective kid. Say someone else - someone you care about had been tortured for a long period of time, then he was found and brought back. Knowing what he went through, lets say he had a break down - like really lost his shit. Started panicking, getting upset - maybe even getting violent. Would you think, as a knowledgeable soldier about PTSD and torture techniques, that this man was a wuss? That not being Ok was weak? Would you even expect him to be "Ok" after it all?"

He thought long and hard about that one for a minute before coming to the conclusion. Of course he wouldn't think that, especially not about someone he cared about.

"No, I wouldn't." Maybe Simon had a point.

"So why would I be mad at, or judging you, Gary?"

He couldn't answer that one. He just wasn't used to this, he wasn't used to talking about or showing emotions and it made him uncomfortable. Suddenly he became very fearful about if they did get out of there.

What would it be like? What would he be like? Would he be able to deal with it all? Simon was right - he would need help, professional help. But would he have to ask for it? He knew deep down he probably wasn't capable of doing that. He didn't want to do that, he would rather die. He was actually beginning to wish that these guys would end his life already - he wanted to be dead so he wouldn't have to deal with the pain; psychological and physiological any more. He was almost willing to pull the trigger himself.

 _Wait, what? What the fucking hell Gary? Why the fuck would you think about wishing you were dead? Holy shit, I am fucked up. Holy fucking shit._

Not only was there an enemy through the door and down the hall, taunting him every chance they could get; there was an enemy inside his head. Only this one, no one else could fight. He was alone, and that scared the shit out of him.

"I'm not going to let you deal with it alone Gary." Simon interrupted his thoughts. _Wait, how did?.. oh god! I must've been fucking mumbling again. Shit!_

"How long have I been doing that?"

"What, talking to yourself?" … _No, what else?_ He thought sarcastically, rolling his eye as best he could.

"Yeah." He dead-panned.

"Hmm. 'Bout a week or two, since you haven't really been fully coherent."

"What have you heard?" It was more a question, but part of it was clearly a threat that he'd hurt the other man if he didn't tell him. Not that he could or would physically, he could barely move. He'd just have to give him the silent treatment if he didn't. _Fuck, cant do that either, I mumbl- fuck! Im doing it again. Bollocks._

"You must've been around me too much mate, you've been using that word an awful lot. But, ignoring my digressing, you told me how in love with me you secretly are, and how you want to get married and run off into the sunset and all that bull-shite." The man winked.

He gasped, he did not say that! He could tell by the almost not there glint in the man's eyes he was sure no one else would ever notice, that he was only fucking around with him - which he would dare say, he found relieving. _I'd rather be dead if I said that aloud to anybody._

"I did fucking not."

"Nah, heh, just fucking around with ya mate. Don't worry. But you did say you were glad you weren't alone and that I was here. Cant say, given your position, that your view is bad or that I disagree though."

In a futile attempt to distract himself from the pain, he decided to tease the other man back.

"Now I understand why you're always flirting with me, Simon." he snickered.

The other man looked perplexed for a moment before he understood the full implications of his joke. Gary swear he paled, probably at the thought of him.

"Hey! I do not-"

Ghost's argument was interrupted by the door opening, a common occurrence these days. He swore that if they ever got out of there, that door would haunt him for life - worse than everything else. He was sure that every time he heard a door opening he would shit himself. If he didn't like his privacy so much he'd probably end up removing the door to his quarters. Also, he shared so he probably wouldn't be allowed to any way. _That's assuming we ever get out…_

"Evening, Gentlemen. It is 12:12 Am and boy, have we got something special and exiting for you today!"

 _Here we go again._

That was the last thought that went through his head before he felt the familiar, painful tug of them starting to drag him as harshly as possible out the door and into another room.

CPT. JOHN MACTAVISH

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: JANUARY 15th, 2015

TIME: 0022 HRS

They had reached the drop off zone, and they were all ready to go and parachute in. He was to go first, then in their already arranged order, everyone else would follow suite. There was no time to debrief when they landed, they had to get straight in there and catch them by surprise, so he had made sure everyone was clear on what to do in the Chopper.

 _Stay undetected as long as possible whilst moving as fast as possible to the RP, then they were to infiltrate the building, clearing as much as possible whilst finding their boys so they could evacuate them as easy as possible._

Though the mission brief wasn't the most comprehensive and detailed, everyone knew what they had to do to a tee; they could hear and see the the underlying message that was hidden behind the lines.

 _Get Roach and Ghost the fuck out of there by all means necessary._

He didn't care what had to be done, he just needed his men out of there and back on their side of the lines.

MacTavish was suddenly very glad they had brought as much man power as physically possible, he knew they were definitely going to need it. Before he could let any more negative thoughts feed his mind, he started doing one last check over all his equipment and 'chute. Everything was good and ready to go. Now it was him who had to be.

He turned to the team, nodding to them all.

"See you on the far side!"

He turned around to the open door of the Pave Low and jumped, praying the whole time that this would work. The relief he felt when the parachute flawlessly deployed without a hitch was indescribable. _Its go time!_

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: KHARKIV, UKRAINE_

 _Date: JANUARY 15_ _th_ _, 2015_

 _Time: 0025 HRS_

 _Status: [POW]_

They were in a new room today, but it wasn't like any of their previous rooms. It was normal - completely and utterly fucking normal. There was no filthy bath tub, no shower, no metal table to tie him to and no fire place. Just a fucking office desk with a few chairs, a table and other ordinary office supplies like paper, pens, rulers, staplers, a computer, a kettle and mugs. Nothing like what he was used to lately. Not the most ominous thing.

But to Gary, it scared the shit out of him. More than anything else he had experienced yet ever had. It meant that whatever these bastards had planned could be anything, there was no clue, nothing. Hell, the anticipation was probably part of it to make the torture and pain worse.

He was sitting in a fucking comfortable chair - well slouching from the pain, albeit tied to it, whilst facing Ivan, Ghost right by his side. The man was simply just sitting there in front of him, sipping his tea like he didn't have a fucking care in the world.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door they had entered from.

"I wonder who that could be…" Ivan stated, Gary could hear the sarcasm dripping from the man's voice like water dripping from an ice cube kept out on a warm surface. The man knew exactly who the fuck it was behind the door.

The Russian stood up to open the door and let whoever it was in. Gary suddenly hoped that whoever was behind that door wasn't with anyone he knew. He vaguely wondered whether the slow, psychological torture was more effective than the bodily harm. _Probably, I fucking hate not knowing._

Giving a brief glance to Simon beside him, Gary could tell he was just as puzzled as he was. _Great._

He was suddenly glad the man was here with him, the man made him feel better, though he didn't know why. It only just dawned on him how much he had grown to care for his lieutenant though. He probably wouldn't even still be alive if it wasn't for the man, and for that he was eternally grateful. Well, in this present moment any way.

There had been some fucking dark moments over the past few weeks where he had spent hours not talking, having a mental battle with his brain about his self and life worth. There had been times, he was ashamed to admit, that he had cursed the man for allowing him to continue to live. Hell, he was sure in moments of hysteria and nebulous that he had even said it out loud without any control or thought. The man hadn't said anything about it though, nor had he stopped caring for him. Whatever reverence he had for the man before this calamity, it had increased tenfold by now.

He wished he could tell the man how grateful he was for his support, but he couldn't. He wasn't good with emotions, nor was he comfortable discussing this. Not to mention the fact that they were in the presence of these Russian wankers. He could only say what he could convey with his eyes. Simon seemed to understand somewhat though, the other man nodded and gave a brief smile before turning back to watch what Ivan was up to.

By now the door had been opened and it revealed a few on the Russian men dragging along some poor sod whose head was covered with a filthy cloth blindfold.

 _What the hell are they up to?_

"Thank you, you may go."

"Yes sir."

With that, they other men left, leaving Gary and Simon with Ivan and the unknown man who was now being restrained by Ivan himself against the wall.

"You see him Gary? I am going to kill this man. Do you know why?"

"Because you enjoy participating in sordid activities?" He managed to spit out in detest through the still lingering pain.

"I wouldn't call it "sordid", per se Gary - merely unusual. But no, it is because I have asked him several times about something very important to me, but he will not tell me what I need to know. I find that very rude, so now he is going to pay the price."

"Who is he?"

Ghost asked next to him, he could hear the dread in his voice, knowing the man wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

"That is… not important, Simon. All you need to know is that because he didn't give me what I wanted, he is going to die."

"Bet you had a lot of friends as a child." he muttered quietly, not sure if any one could hear it. Simon snickered next to him however, so he assumed they both did.

"Would you like to see how a man screams when has his eye removed whilst still alive, Gary?"

What the fuck! The sick fucking arse-hole, he hoped to god he was fucking bluffing.

"You bastard…"

"The action would be… sordid, no?"

With that the man just smiled before turning and removing the blindfold from the other man who appeared to be somewhere in his early thirties. Gary didn't know him, not that that was much consolation for what was about to happen, but he wasn't sure if Ghost did. They were a similar age. He looked at his friend, though he couldn't find any recognition in the man's eyes. Apparently the man was a complete stranger, being made just an example to them.

"Please do try to keep quiet now."

The man's eyes widened in fear as he struggled to get away. It was useless, Gary mused sadly. Ivan grabbed a scalpel from the table his pocket and lunged it at one of the man's eyes, successfully penetrating the object into the socket. He moved the object around in there, trying to create leverage to remove the eye ball. After some effort there was a horrible popping sound as Ivan managed to remove the eye. The poor man screamed the whole time in pain, it wasn't just any scream - it was a blood curling scream that could only be released from indescribable pain and fear.

 _That must fucking hurt! Holy fucking shit!_

Gary couldn't bear to watch, he couldn't bear to hear it either, but he felt the man deserved more respect than for him to turn away and not pay it any attention. It was the worst thing ever, watching someone go through such pain.

 _Removing a fucking eye? The bastard is fucking sick! More than sick! Oh god._

"This is what happens when you do not tell me what I want to know."

With that Ivan seemed to lose patience, because he grabbed a very sharp combat knife and slit the screaming man's throat,v ending the man's life in such a dastardly and cruel way. He did it as if killing a man so mercilessly was nothing to him, hell it probably wasn't. But now, Gary doubted his life would last much longer. His fears were soon supported.

"You see Gary, there's only so much time before one starts to give up. You have almost died on several occasions, and yet you still haven't told us a thing. This leaves me with no choice."

The man grabbed out a timer from a draw in the table and set it.

"You see this timer? It is set for ten minutes from now. If, between now and then, you do not tell me what I wish to know I will kill you. With each passing few minutes I will inflict an unbearable pain on you. Now, I don't want to do this to you, I was quite enjoying our little game. It seems as though we have a little problem now, doesn't it? The question now is, are you going to tell me, or are you going to die?"

"Fuck you!"

 _He wouldn't, fucking hell! Im going to fucking die!_

Fear wouldn't even begin to describe how he felt, he had a feeling the Russian wasn't bluffing. Honestly, it wasn't so much the death any more, more the suffering before he got there.

There was a clicking sound and Gary looked up to see that Ivan had started the countdown on the device. _Shit._

"I wonder what's going through your mind, with knowing you only have 10 minutes to live and all…"

"Go to hell!"

"I bet it's something about how much you hate me, or that im bluffing. I can assure you - I am not."

Gary just looked at him in disgust as the man reached for the scalpel again. He didn't know why Ivan did that exactly, but he wasn't surprised when the man lunged at him and cut just above his left eye, in an attempt to torment the younger man about what he had just done. He did, however, hiss out in the pain it brought him. Though he had long since stopped crying out from such a non portentous act of inflicting pain. By that he meant by the lack of almost man slaughter, yet at least.

The man just laughed at him before dropping the scalpel and walking over to the kettle, flicking the switch to make it boil. oh how he was fucking sick of that laugh.

"Do you know how long it approximately takes for your common kettle to boil, Gary?"

"Do I want to know?"

"Around two minutes, give or take. In two minutes, when the timer reaches 7.03, I could pour this down your throat. It would probably burn everything in its path, melt the flesh right off too."

"Don't you dare, you fucking piece of shit!" Simon yelled at the man angrily from beside him. Oh he would dare alright, he could see it in his eyes. His evil, gleaming eyes.

Gary just kept quiet, it was really starting to kick in that he was going to die - and in the worst way possible too; slowly in front of someone you love.

 _Wait, what? Love? What the fuck do I mean love? Fucking hell, I just meant in a brotherly way, right? Yeah, I bloody did, shut up Gary you git. That's fucking… inappropriate!_

He focused back on Ivan.

"I'm not going to do that to you just yet Gary. You wouldn't be able to talk, and since that would defeat the purpose of this little exercise, I think I'll save that option for later."

"How fucking kind…"

"Instead, I think ill rip all of your nails, one by one. If that doesn't work, I'll rip off your toes…"

 _Oh god._

CPT. JOHN MACTAVISH

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: JANUARY 15th, 2015

TIME: 0027 HRS

"Sir, 15 tangos approaching from your left! I'll help thin them out!"

Archers voice broke through the comms. There was a lot of resistance here, but they were going to kill every fucking bastard who got in their way. They were determined to finish the job now. They were so close. So fucking close!

He took cover behind the entrance of the shed, taking out as many as he could before having to reload. He took aim again and smoked the remaining two targets before telling his team to move up. Just 100 more feet or so and they would be entering the building - and that was their real challenge.

They moved as quickly as possible, but the enemy just seemed to be multiplying. He repeated his previous actions; taking cover, shooting, reloading, shooting, moving up, taking cover, shooting, reloading, for what seemed like hours, but was just minutes. The mantra was stuck in his head, like a recipe to fuel him with anger and determination.

Taking out the last few stragglers, they finally made it to one of the entrances. They stacked up, positioning themselves ready to breach the door and room.

"One, two, three!"

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: KHARKIV, UKRAINE_

 _Date: JANUARY 15_ _th_ _, 2015_

 _Time: 0032 HRS_

 _Status: [POW]_

He was in a world of agony now. You'd be surprised how much the removal of nails purposely and slowly could fucking hurt. The man had also thought it fun to fucking break his already very weak and sore leg. The man had literally stepped his full weight on it and fucking broke it, just like that. Like the snap of a finger or a small twig. The cracking sound wasn't something he thought he ever forget if he ever made it out of this alive.

Oh god, it hurt so bad, he just wanted to scream - to yell every profanity he could think of until he could scream any more. He felt anger and hatred rising in him for these people and he sincerely hoped that they would have a fucking slow and painful death like his would be. Then he hoped that they would rot in hell; then be reincarnated and die and rot in hell once more.

"3 minutes remaining, Gary. We can end this now, or it can only become worse. The choice is yours, remember."

He just screamed at the Russian, nothing particularly intelligible or coherent, but at least it made him feel a bit better. Mentally, not physically. Nothing could make that pain any better except fucking morphine and sleep.

 _Ill be getting plenty of fucking sleep when im dead!_

"That wasn't very smart Gary."

 _I don't fucking give a shit!_

But he couldn't say that, the only noise he could make was to groan.

"Well, the kettles long boiled by now, probably even cooled down a little."

"No!" he shouted in vain, it was really useless. There was nothing he could do; he was fucked. He could see in the corner of his eye Simon trying to get lose, struggling to do anything to stop him from dying. It was useless, and part of him wished he would stop.

 _Why the hell would I think that? I cant fucking give up…_

Ivan glanced at the clock, seemingly pondering something before speaking.

"1 minute 13 seconds remaining. You've got 13 seconds to tell me Gary, before I pour this boiling water down your throat." He would rather die than tell this bastard anything.

"Eat shit!"

Ivan sighed. "You leave me no choice."

He picked up the kettle and poured the steaming liquid into a mug, filling it to the brim. Putting the kettle back in its place, the Russian walked over to him, cup in hand. "Open wide Gary."

He clamped his jaw shut as tight as physically possible to prevent the boiling water from entering, but it was no use - the other man was much stronger than he was in his weakened state. The man easily pried his mouth open, and within seconds, he felt his mouth being scalded. Then his throat.

It hurt so much, more than anything else he decided. This really was fucking torture - there was no physical way to bare or deal with this level of pain. So he screamed, only the screaming made the blistering pain in his mouth and throat 10 times worse, so he screamed from that pain too and this just kept going and going until he was a panting crying mess. He just wanted the absolute agony to end.

CPT. JOHN MACTAVISH

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: JANUARY 15th, 2015

TIME: 0033 HRS

He stabbed an enemy right in the throat after they lunged at him whilst he was turning a corner into the room, instantly killing the bastard. He deserved it! By his calculations they were almost in the centre of the building, and there had been no sign of the two men yet, they had to be close now.

Quickly taking cover again, he shot everyone in front of him, the anger really fuelling him now. Beside him was most of the team and they all had seemed to be thinking the same thing as him. He quickly shot someone who was trying to double back around to sneak up behind them before turning his attention back to the mass of Russians in the room.

It didn't take them long to clear it out, he had a large team beside him and the other half of the group helped from the other side of the room from when they split up to search faster. They then all joined in the middle, standing outside the last room to be checked in anticipation. They had to be in there.

"Only one room left, lets go!" He called, he hoped they weren't too late.

He grabbed the handle of the door, gun at the ready, and pushed it open, revealing an office looking room…

 _SGT. Gary_ _"Roach" Sanderson_

 _Location: KHARKIV, UKRAINE_

 _Date: JANUARY 15_ _th_ _, 2015_

 _Time: 0033 HRS_

 _Status: [POW]_

"Now I don't think you are in any condition to give me any answers, would you agree Gary?"

 _Fuck this arse-hole!_

He just groaned, unable to produce a verbal response. He was sure everything the water had touched was blistered and… cooked. Literally, Gary was sure his insides were actually cooked it was that hot and painful.

"I'll take that as agreement. But, I did promise you that you would have 10 minutes left to live, so for the remaining… 23 seconds - Simon, I will give you the opportunity to answer my question."

"Go to hell!"

"I believe young Gary will be going there soon, and I am sure he will not want my company there."

He could _feel_ the man's arrogant smirk from his comment, he didn't even have to look at him to know about it. He could also feel Simon's anger radiating off of him and he felt bad. He didn't want his lieutenant to have to witness him dying; it wasn't fair.

"Im goin' to fucking kill you, you bastard!"

"All things I have already heard from you, Mr. Riley. 11 seconds…"

"Arghh! Fuck! Gary I'm so sorry!"

"7 seconds…" He pulled out a Beretta and loaded it with ammo.

Gary wanted to reply to Simon's apology, to tell him it was ok and that it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't. the words wouldn't come out because he physically couldn't talk. He hoped that the man could recover from this.

Instead, he was faced with the front of a gun.

"4, 3…"

He somewhere thought heard the sound of a door being burst open, but his ears and head were pounding from the blood, pain and fear. He really wasn't paying any attention to anything but that damn gun, and to be honest - right now he didn't care.

"2, 1."

 _Bang!_

* * *

 ** _A/N: AND THERE! Sorry about leaving it on a cliffhanger, thought it was a more dramatic way to end the chapter..._**


	9. Redemption & Defeat

**_A/N: Hi all,_**

 ** _I was kind of in a rush to get this chapter done and dusted due to work and life involvements, so apologies for any errors and the overall shortness of the chapter._**

 ** _Now, the boys may be in the clear, but I assure you - things will not go smoothly from here on. You know what they say; things have to get worse to get better... mwahahaha..._**

 ** _Anyways, please enjoy and I hope you like it. Reviews are very much appreciated, so thank you to all that continue to read and review. I wasn't sure if this story was too dead, but knowing at least some people like it makes me want to continue!_**

 ** _Dig in._**

 _LT. SIMON_ _"GHOST" RILEY_

 _Location: KHARKIV, UKRAINE_

 _Date: JANUARY 15_ _th_ _, 2015_

 _Time: 0033 HRS_

 _Status: [POW]_

It all seemed to happen in slow motion to him; the countdown, his useless attempts at getting free and his yelling for Ivan to stop and go to Hell and a door opening. Then the gunshot.

"No!"

 _Bang_

Then to his horror and dismay, he saw Gary just slump, deep, red blood covering his entire torso and face.

 _Wait, face? It got him in the torso, not the head…_

It suddenly occurred to him that he swore he heard more than one shot. Tearing his eyes away from Roach and looking back to where Ivan had previously been standing, his thoughts were confirmed. There lay on the floor the Russian Bastard, gaping hole through his head. It was his blood covering the kids face.

 _Fucking hell, serves you right you piece of shit! Told you, you'd fucking pay for hurting him._

He turned to look towards the door to see who the offender of the other weapon was. MacTavish. Fucking MacTavish! The git had finally found them. Thank god. Now he had to worry about Gary, he hoped to fucking anyone that the kid was still alive and would make it. Chemo and a field medic had already gone to assist the Sergeant, he felt useless. That should be him helping the other man, and making sure he wouldn't die. Instead he was tied to a fucking chair.

"MacTavish, get me the fuck outta this bloody chair, now!"

"Working on it, mate!" The Scotsman replied, now right beside him - hands working deftly to get him free as quickly as possible. "You okay? You look like shite."

"I'm fucking fine! Worry about Roach, the kids probably dead! I've got to bloody help him!" He knew he sounded hysterical, but he didn't care. He kept thrashing at the restraints trying to get free - successfully making the other man's job of getting him free monumentally more difficult. All that mattered was Gary, and anyway - _anyone would bloody be hysterical after weeks in this bloody hell hole!_

"I? Simon, the doctors are with him! They can do a helluva better job saving his arse than you can medically. _We_ need to make sure we can get him and you the hell outta here without dying - and you can listen and do as you're bloody told. That's what you can do to help him."

Deep down he knew the man was right, but he couldn't just not do anything, he had to be there… he had to help, he had to! If Gary died…

"Captain, if he dies…" he just shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.

"I know mate, I know. Just let them do their jobs without getting in the way. You able to walk?"

He just nodded in confirmation. He honestly didn't know, but he didn't care how much it hurt if he tried. He was finally free, and my god did that feel good to him, to be able to move and stretch. But all he wanted was Gary to be okay. They had come too far for him to die now, he had promised to look out for the kid, he couldn't just let him die. Just as MacTavish was starting to walk away to control the situation and get everyone out, he finally finished his sentence.

"If he dies, I failed…"

The other man just looked at him solemnly, the obvious understanding showing in his experienced eyes. He was handed a gun - if asked what gun it was he would probably never be able to say or remember, what happened over the next few hours was a complete blur to him, all he was focused on was the younger man. The pain that the Sergeant had tried so desperately to hide showed so clearly in his face, the fear visible too. He'd never be able to forget that.

"Stay with him, fucking protect him from any more harm mate, but for fuck sakes until we get back to not get in their way - it'll be a hindrance, not helping."

"Yes sir."

He replied quietly, a melancholic feeling rising inside of him. He understood what the captain was saying, he had to let them do their job. The more he got in their way, the more likely it was that the blood loss and trauma would catch Gary and take him away from them forever. After so much intimate time with the man for over a month, he couldn't let that happen. He had to be with him, had to have some of his much needed control back. He couldn't let his friend die the way he had let his family die. He wouldn't let that happen, he wouldn't. He would do whatever it took - this was his redemption from his past he so desperately wanted to forget.

So deep in thought, he slowly stalked over to where Gary was still being treated in a frenzy, there seemed to be so much chaos and panic surrounding him. Simon didn't like that, it meant they weren't in control of the situation.

It didn't feel real any more, the whole situation.

You go through days and days of pain and suffering, and eventually you lose all hope of ever getting out. He felt like time had stopped for him, but so much was still going on all around. The sergeant looked awful, he hadn't really noticed it until now, but he was going to be in a world of pain when he awoke. The man was pail and frail looking after so much time in captivity and constant torment. Every bruise, every cut and every mark stood out like red pen on white paper; so obviously deliberate but never able to be removed. This wasn't Gary, the kid didn't look like that. Did he look similar himself? How could this be real?

He couldn't move, couldn't feel, couldn't see. He just needed control, he needed to know that this was real. He needed something to make everything feel real. So he grabbed the other man's hand and took it in his own, he didn't know why, but it felt right and it helped some. Never would he have thought in a million years that he would be holding another man's hand in real fear for their life. A few weeks ago he wouldn't be caught dead doing that, but somehow, now he didn't care. It didn't matter who saw or what anyone thought. All that mattered now was Gary.

 _He has to be okay, he has to be!_

He didn't know how long had passed like that; seconds, minutes, hours? He didn't care. But next thing he knew he could vaguely hear someone calling his name and saying something.

"He's stable for now."

 _Huh? Stable? Stable! Right, fuck he's fucking alive. Shit, but it's not over yet, how long will it be until he becomes unstable?_

"Lieutenant Riley, sir!" a sharp shove took him away from his thoughts and into what was definitely now real. He turned to look at whoever was trying to get his attention, it was Chemo. The man looked stressed and worried, and he guessed that wasn't only because of Roach, himself as well. The blokes green eyes showed real concern for the situation, and he felt bad exacerbating his worries with his spacing out and getting in the way.

"Sorry, mate. Been a long few weeks. We need to move him now?"

"It's been more than a few weeks sir."

 _What? Has it really?_

"But yeah, the sooner the better, he's not in a good way. Hell, you probably know that better than anybody. Do you want to stay with him whilst we move him, or…?"

"Uh…"

God, he didn't want to leave the kids side - ever for that matter at the moment, but that wouldn't look to good to the other men here.

"You've been POW's here together for over a month with no one but yourselves to trust. You've probably been very close by force from the whole ordeal, and it is perfectly normal and reasonable for you to not want to leave him in fear of losing him or something worse. Well, from my medical and personal opinion anyway. Sir. So, if you're worried about what anyone thinks, caring for a close friend, don't be. They'll understand. Believe me, you'll probably never want to leave him alone again after what they did to him, I know I don't."

He nodded, grateful that no one cared right now how clingy his actions seemed, even to himself. He just couldn't leave the man's side, he felt responsible for him now. He didn't understand why, but maybe what Chemo was saying explained it. God, at least his attachment was somewhat normal after something like this.

"Thanks mate." he finally replied, "I think you know my answer then."

"Yes sir."

* * *

What happened next was a complete blur to Simon - the getting the kid on the makeshift stretcher, making sure the place was clear of any tangos, carrying him through the halls. Making it outside and having to quickly get to cover. Then having to put pressure over Gary's gunshot wound because it had been aggravated too much and started bleeding heavily again. Then finally fixing it up again whilst taking fire, carrying him towards the LZ again, then after god-knows how long, finally reaches and boarding the chopper.

It was honestly all a haze to him, there was almost no recollection of the recent events until he was sitting next to a barely conscious Gary in the helicopter on their way home. Suddenly everything came hammering back to him, and he realised what had just happened.

"Holy hell, we're actually getting out of that hell hole…" he muttered quietly, still somewhat in shock. He heard a slight muffled noise of a laugh from beside him. _He probably shouldn't talk._

"Aye." Gary responded to him, the sound coming out broken and rough, causing him to let out a cough which more than likely was very bad for his gunshot wound that was still being tended to.

"Don't talk mate, you'll make it worse."

He just slightly nodded his head in agreement or understanding. "God, you're going to be in a world of pain young Sanderson."

The other man managed to give him the finger, which he hoped meant he wasn't going to die yet because he could still give his attitude. But he was still in critical - barely coherent, condition, so that was probably him being wishful. He hadn't realised until now just how scared he was and just how close he had come to losing his friend. If MacTavish had been even a second later, he would be dead. Himself too, probably. Even there escape had been an incredibly close call - several times.

Looking back at the Sergeant he could see real fear in his dulling dark chocolate brown eyes, the black circles around them didn't help the look any. He didn't know what he expected to see; relief, exhaustion and some form of twisted merriment to not be in hell any more, but definitely not fear. Fear of what was to come next, fear of the people around him. _Fear of fucking every day things that he'll probably panic if he sees. Fuck, I hope we can help him - I, can help him. God only knows, I intend to fucking do my best. Though, with my track record lately… argh!_

He suddenly realised just how tired and sore he really was. Everything hurt and he couldn't think straight any more. The darkness of a good sleep was beginning to pull at him, but he wouldn't let it. He couldn't do that to Gary, he couldn't go to sleep whilst he was still awake, scared and in more pain than him, whilst he just slept. Not that he'd be able to sleep for very long any way, but still. The point remained - it wouldn't be fair. He would stay with Gary until the other man himself told him to go, there was nothing anybody could do about it.

 _Bloody hell, I really am possessive. Oh well, im too tired to give a shit._

He looked back down to the other man who looked like he was oscillating somewhere between being deep in thought, and trying desperately not to fall asleep.

 _Probably not a good idea for him to fall asleep right now, would never forgive myself if we got this far for him to never wake up._

Sighing, he focused his attention onto what the medics where doing at the man's torso and other injuries he'd sustained. The leg was yet to be set and they were too busy stopping him from dying to do anything but focus on his the gaping hole. Though, Gary seemed to be doing as well as could be expected with the pain.

 _They must have given him morphine or something for that._

The guilt was still eating away at him that the other man had sustained all these injuries because of him, and he had gotten nothing that was really serious. Out of everything anyone had ever tried on him, the psychological torture of watching your best friend die was most definitely up there with the worst. This is why he'd chosen not to have friends until recently, so this couldn't happen. It made him so fucking angry he could feel his blood boiling with rage just thinking about it. He needed to calm down, getting angry wouldn't help anyone right now. He wanted to hit something.

He faintly felt someone squeeze his hand, well the only one who was touching it was Gary, so obviously it had to be him. Effectively distracting him from the anger, he looked back at Gary intending to ask what was up, but was terrified with what he saw. The kids face was scrunched up from pain, he was sweating and looked even more pale than before. He looked like death warmed up - something was definitely wrong. Looking up he could see the medics starting to rush around in a panic trying to help the younger man.

"Shit, Chemo what the bloody hell is happening?"

"He's going into shock! We cant stop the bleeding and nothings working! Gary, can you hear me?"

 _Fuck, no! This cant be happening, it cant! He was fine, he was fucking okay a few minutes ago, what the hell went wrong?_

They kept trying to stabilise Gary for a few more minutes, but they still couldn't. By now, he was panicking - he would never admit it, but he was shit scared of losing him now. Why wasn't anything working?

Gary was obviously suffering more and more with the coming seconds, he seemed like he was struggling to breathe. Simon could see the young man starting to lose consciousness by the way his eyes drooped, he had learned over the last few weeks the look before someone passed out. He would never forget it,especially not the look in their eyes as they thought that they were about to die.

 _Is he going to die?_

"Chemo..?"

"Shit! He's losing consciousness!"

 _Yeah, no fucking shit!_

"Gary, hold on, try not to go to sleep mate!"

But there was no response. Of course there was no response, there was never any fucking response! Nothing ever fucking went right, now he was going to lose Bug! He was angry and he didn't know what the hell to do, the death grip the younger man had on his hand was slowly but surely diminishing, until the grip went completely slack. He looked up in time to see the man's head completely droop, which signaled he was finally unconscious.

"Crap, he's suffering from cardiac dysrhythermia!"

 _What the bloody hell does that even mean?_

"We've got to regulate his heart beat." He was sure it was said pointedly at him. "Simon, I'm going to have to ask you to move."

No! They couldn't make him leave the kid. That wasn't okay. But he didn't have a choice, he suddenly found himself being pushed out of the way, into the back of the chopper against the metal wall.

He sat there for several minutes watching them try to get Gary's heart beat back to normal, but nothing seemed to be changing. _Gary you stupid bastard!_

He rubbed his hands over his face, shocked to feel something wet. He pulled his hand away to see bloody and some other liquid - tears? Shit, why the hell was he crying? He didn't even know that he was, he didn't fucking cry! God he hoped no one had noticed. He wanted to scream out in frustration, he _needed_ control, and he needed sleep. Fuck.

He was so tired, he didn't even know what was going on any more - It felt like he hadn't slept in weeks. Well to be fair, he hadn't really, but he wasn't this tired before.

 _Or was that the Adrenalin?_

Simon could feel himself slowly starting to fall asleep, until something in the back ground caught his attention.

"Shit! He's going into cardiac arrest! Jackson, prepare to de-fib!"

 _What? No!_

His Gary was dying, he was going to fucking die! There was nothing he could do.

 _Wait, his Gary? The hell?_

He heard the noise of the defibrillator shocking the young man, could feel the shock himself through the plane.

"Fuck, it didn't work! Let's go again, now!"

 _It didn't work? Fuck, why isn't it working?_

As far as he was concerned, it had to work. They couldn't let the Sergeant die. He would rather give his life than let the other man die. But he was so tired, there was nothing he could do. His Gary was dying and all he could do was try not to fall asleep. He was even failing at that, staying awake was really becoming a big struggle until he eventually closed his eyes.

"3, 2, 1!"

 _Thump!_

The noise quickly shocked him awake, thudding into him like he had just awoken from a terrible dream. The ones when you cant move or you suddenly find yourself falling or dying and then you suddenly wake up. That's how it felt to him. Opening his eyes, he saw Gary's lifeless body falling back onto the ground, it still didn't look like it was working. But he really was tired. So fucking tired…

 _No!_

He couldn't go to sleep, he had to be awake. If he died, it would be all his fault. But it was no use, Simon couldn't help but close his eyes, feeling the darkness slowly start to take over him.

"One more time!"

He could hear in the back ground.

"3, 2, 1."

There was that thudding sound again, but this time it didn't really jolt him awake. He was too far gone. However, there was no fourth shock from the defibrillator before he finally fell asleep…

 _LT. SIMON_ _"GHOST" RILEY_

 _Location: Classified_

 _Date: JANUARY 16_ _th_ _, 2015_

 _Time: UNKNOWN_

 _Status: ACTIVE_

His head was pounding, he felt like shit. Everything hurt and it felt like he was dying. He knew that was an exaggeration, but fuck. There was an annoying beeping noise that wouldn't go away and he was about to blow whatever it was up. He had no idea what was going on, last he remembered was being on the heli… _Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit!_

It all came back to him abruptly. He must have fallen asleep, that wasn't good. But what happened since then? Where the hell was he now? How did he even bloody get here? More importantly, where the hell was Roach? Was the kid even alive? So many thoughts were rushing through his head, effectively making his pounding head worse until he felt the need to scream in frustration.

"Arghh!"

Feeling the need to throw something solid after too long a period of time being restrained and confined to that bloody cell, he grabbed the nearest portable object to him and launched it at the wall across from him. It made a nice cracking and crashing sound, which made him feel slightly better. As well as the physical exertion, though moving was actually rather painful. Despite this, feeling like the action helped some, he continued throwing the things that were next to him at the wall until there was nothing left to break and he was panting, but at least he could think straight again and had calmed down. He wasn't proud of his little tantrum, but fuck it felt bloody good to throw something; to be in control again.

After some perusal, he soon realised that the annoying beeping sound was a heart monitor, which meant that he was more than likely in a hospital somewhere. Back at base maybe? Looking around, he soon noticed that the place did look familiar.

 _Thank god. But what about Gary? If he's… alive, he'll be here somewhere._

With that in mind, he ripped out the IV that was inserted into his arm and disconnected the monitor using not so approved of methods. He had to find him ASAP.

Getting up, he realised that he felt like absolute shit, his legs hurt and ached from disuse and he felt dizzy and nauseous. He had to sit back down almost immediately before he passed out, maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. He'd definitely be paying for that later. If he had been gone for over a month, he was probably severely dehydrated as well as many other things, which explained all his symptoms. But it was still annoying and a bitch.

"Fuck." he sighed.

How frustrating.

Suddenly the infirmary doors flew open, exposing a flustered but almost angry looking Doctor. He knew he knew the man, but he couldn't remember who exactly he was right now.

"What the hell are you doing up, Mr Riley?" the doctor inquired, irritation coloring his tone and vocabulary.

He didn't have the time or the patience for this.

"Where the hell's Gary?" He yelled at the man loudly. A lot louder than he had intended. He had probably scared the shit out of any medical personnel in the building or the next one over, but he didn't care. He needed to know where the kid was, or if he was alive. "Is he even fucking alive?!" he added.

"He's um… he's…" The bloke was obviously scared out of his wits of him, but he didn't have time for being pleasant or caring.

"He's fucking what!?"

"He's alive."


	10. Alive?

**A/N: Hi all,**

 **I apologise dearly for the delay in updating, it has been an incredibly hectic week and I have not been home. My good friend was kind enough to let me borrow their laptop because I wouldn't stop obsessing about getting it done... what has my life become... Also, it's 40 odd degrees Celsius (104+ in Fahrenheit), so not dying has been quite the priority lately. I've also been doodling more art work than writing in this blistering heat, hence the cover art.**

 **Anyhoo, I'm not confident with this chapter as it does not contain my usual evilness, however, I hope you still enjoy it. Let me know if there is anything I should change please.**

 **Also, thank you to those guest reviewers whom I cannot reply to, but your comments are very much appreciated, as are everyone else's.**

 **please, enjoy.**

LT. SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

DATE: 17 January, 2015

Time: 1208 HRS

"Alive?"

"Yes, alive, albeit barely. His injuries are a trifle more severe than we first anticipated, it's taking its time to get everything under control."

He was alive! Holy hell, Gary was alive!

He didn't understand why, but that made him feel happy - happier than he could really recall being for a long while. But then it hit him, more severe? That resonated for a second.

"Wait, what? What's wrong with him? Where the hell is he?"

The man just raised an eyebrow at him scoldingly, as if to punish a young and passionate child for speaking out of line.

He could feel his anger rising now, and his blood boiling. How dare he? Did this man really have the right to question him, or their relationship after what they went through?

Was he questioning their relationship?

He knew he needed to keep his cool, but he couldn't help it. Couldn't be _bothered_ helping it, he was being fuelled by his emotions. Not a smart thing to do in any case, had he not been incarcerated for other a month he would have to seriously reprimand himself for being so foolish. But he'd sort it out later. Right now; he had to find out about Gary.

"Mr. Riley, you need to calm down."

He scoffed.

 _What a condescending prick! Calm down? Calm the fuck down?! Is_ _this git bloody serious?_

He would show him calm the fuck down.

"Well if you tell me what the hell is wrong with him and where the fuck he is then i wouldn't bloody need to! I swear, arghh!" God he needed to control his anger he added as a mental note.

"You'll what? You are in no condition for this nonsense, nor is the Sergeant. I understand what you have been through, and you have every right to be angry - but not at us! I'll let it slide this time, but you better start getting your act together, for both of your sakes. God forbid, he's going to need it. I can only imagine what they did to that poor man."

Though Simon thought the man to be a complete arse, he could see the reverence and disgust written on the man's face at the thought of what he'd been through. Reverence for them, that is. Deciding calming down would weasel more answers out of the man, that's what he tried.

 _Deep breaths in and out. Calm the fuck down Simon, you are in control now._

"Listen mate." He said, sounding mostly calm, albeit with a hint of fear. "Please can you tell me where he is? You've got to understand, I've been by his side for over a month, I've seen everything they did to him, we've been forced to become close just to survive. I just need to see him, to make sure he's okay."

"Look, Simon, is it alright if i call you that?" He just nodded. "Simon, you've got to understand, the kids a mess, and you're not exactly in great health."

His bloody point was? He didn't say that though, instead he opted for feigning understanding and playing nice. He just nodded, which the man seemed to take pity on him because he sighed heavily and scrubbed his face with his hand, not quite in exasperation, but still annoyed.

"How about I cut you a deal?"

 _Huh? Now we're getting somewhere! what kind of deal though?_

"Go on."

"If you promise to let me do all of these checks i need to do without so much as a squeak, and eat something without complaint, then i will let you see him. Sound fair?"

He just rolled his eyes. Bloody hell, he was being treated like a fucking kid. This geezer obviously didn't heed to severity of his situation, and that really pissed him off. He needed to bloody see Gary god damn it. But if he didn't comply, would he get to make sure the kid was still there, at all? Fuck, he hated this. There was nothing even fucking wrong with him as far as he was bloody concerned.

"Fine., but there's nothing wrong with me."

He eventually replied after several minutes of his internal debate.

 _This bloody better not take long._

"Be that as it may, I suggest we let the professional decide that, shall we?"

"Think I'd know if I was dyin' Doc."

"I know that, but i also know that even if you did know that you weren't well, you wouldn't tell anyone or ask for help. I wouldn't be doing my job well if i didn't make 100% sure Simon, it's not that i want to make your life worse. Am i correct with that assumption?"

He hated to admit it, but the man had somewhat of a point. Though, the veracity of the assumption certainly did not ease the annoyance he felt at the man any.

"I'll give you that one, but I'm pretty sure Ga- Sanderson, needs your attention more right now. We we're both put through hell, but he was the one that suffered physically - not me. Some food, water and sleep and I'll be right as rain."

The man looked at him thoughtfully for a minute.

"Huh. So that's what this is about. You."

The Doctor pointed at him for a second. "Feel guilty about everything - probably that he suffered worse, physically that is. You blame yourself, probably think that there was something you could have done to prevent it, so you feel it necessary to ensure that Gary is alright, by all means necessary. I'm also going to make the conjecture that you also think you do not deserve any help or to feel any better until he does. Which means, you will probably not leave him until he makes you go away. Thus giving me even more reason to check that you really _are_ okay before i discharge you."

Sadly, the words were true, even he could admit that - quietly of course. But at least the man said he was going to be discharged if he was okay.

"How long will this take?"

"Hmm, not too long i shouldn't think. You probably are well enough physically not to be confined to the infirmary, should you eat and drink plenty - as well as get plenty of rest. However, you and i both know that the physical recovery is only half the battle. Mentally, your state is far from fine, however, i do not think it prudent to allow Gary to wake up somewhere unexpected with people he may or may not recognise and trust. It is because of that, and _only_ because of that, that i will allow you to leave Simon. So please, do try not to kill anyone. It is my job on the line here."

He sighed, purely because he knew the other man was right, but he would never admit that to him. The man knew that too. He did appreciate that he would allow him to see Gary, and that he respected both their needs to not be apart. But he was getting impatient. He didn't even know how the kid was, not good in any case he would imagine. If it meant finding out sooner, he would force his temper in check.

"I promise I wont, alright? Anyway, what is his prognosis?"

This time it was the other man's turn to sigh.

"You're going to have to give us a report on what exactly happened to him, though, we do have experience enough to paint a rather accurate picture. He is not in a good way, and although he is alive, he is far from out of the red yet."

 _Oh god._ He didn't like the sound of that, despite the lack of surprise he felt from knowing that.

"I will not go into explicit details with the full extent because i expect you wont understand all the medical jargon. However, i will tell you that; whatever injuries you expect to see and find, square the amount because it's not a good sight. He has a long road ahead of him in recovery, i expect you'll encourage him to get the psychological help he needs, yes?"

Pfft, like Gary would listen to him.

"Yeah, yeah, i will, but how is he? Stop avoiding the question mate."

He had to know.

"The gun shot wound will be both painful and restricting of movement, it hit his stomach and intestine, thus why it caused so much trouble. There are also the severe burns to his mouth, throat and the path it followed as he was forced to swallow it. He will not be able to talk for a while, and it will cause tremendous amounts of pain. Obviously, we will be injecting him with pain killers through the IV to assist with that, but they can only help so much. Do try not to make him feel so ashamed of being in pain, I know what you boys are like. It's frustrating and unnecessary."

"Gotcha."

He was annoyed at the unnecessary dig, but was too anxious to retort back.

"Continuing on, There are several broken ribs, as well as his leg - he's gone for the double. He also has an unusual injury to his hip."

"They stabbed a scalpel through it, one of the very first things they did."

"Ah. Makes sense, well it looked like it had been broken, but it hasn't healed particularly well. We are hoping that with rest and lack of movement, as well as setting it in a better position that it should heal alright now. The leg will be in a cast for a while also. Sadly, there isn't all that much we can do for ribs. Now, the burns are very severe, and the marks aren't at all pretty - something he'll have to learn to live with. As you know, the ones on his face aren't too large or plentiful, and given time they wont be too visible, but the burns to his torso and arms are quite bad. Try not to allow him to look at them too often, he'll more than likely associate the memories with the scars and he'll slip into the huge black hole we know as depression. I think you understand where I'm coming from."

Oh yeah, he most certainly did. He still could barely bare to look at the ones on himself, inflected by Roba, but he never really told any one about that nor did he let anyone in - except maybe Gary. Shit, Gary was in for a world of pain. He hoped the kid would let him in, so he wouldn't have to deal with this shit alone - though through his personal experiences, he probably would try to push him away. He'd have to try doubly hard to help the kid.

 _I cant let the kid fall into the same lonely path of isolation and no help as me, it's dark and takes you to a bad place. A very bad place. So, I have to help him somehow because it's important that that doesn't happen. I don't even understand why I need to help him so bad, but I do. Maybe the doctor was right before, that i feel guilty... Shit i don't know, but is it wrong to act like i care out of guilt? No, because i really do care about him, that's not just guilt talking, I've always cared about the kid, strangely enough. Loved the idiot from the... Wait?! What the fuck? Loved? What the hell are you on about, you twat! Holy crap, you're losing it Simon, you need to get your head back on straight before people start worrying... I just care about him, and if anything, it's just brotherly love, right? Right. That's it, I'm worrying over nothing._

Suddenly there was a noise in front of him pulling him from his thoughts, clicking fingers.

 _Shit, right - the bloke was talking to me. Oops._

He looked up to apologise for his rudeness, but the other man didn't appear angry, more concerned. Just what he needed.

"Should I be worried about you Simon? You were on another planet for at least a few minutes. Not a nice one at that i'll add if your facial expression was anything to go by."

"No. I'm fine, I was just thinking about what they did to Gary, and how to help him." he lied, flawlessly he thought. The other man didn't seem to agree with the flawlessness so much, but he was an idiot any way and Simon didn't care what he thought. His thoughts were back on seeing Gary again.

"Hmm. Well, do you wish for me to continue with the injuries or not?"

Shit, there was more?

"Yes, sorry. Please do."

"Well, there is a lot of swelling as well as dirt and filth caked in most places, not so dissimilar to you. I suggest showering before confining yourself to his room for his... Sojourn."

Now thinking about that, he did feel absolutely horrible and disgusting. There was grime everywhere and he just felt vile. Even just scrubbing his hand over his face he could feel the caked dirt, and shit - the fucking facial hair growing too. He hated that, always had and he was in desperate need of a shave, it was itchy and irritating. He wondered how he hated noticed that before. It was all he could think about now.

 _Maybe i should have a shower before i see him, but... No! I cant, what if he wakes up?_

The other man had obviously seen his distress about the situation.

"He's not going to be awake for a while now, Mr. Riley, you have time to fix your personal hygiene, so please do."

"Thank god."

The thought of a nice, hot shower was bliss. Between his worrying thoughts about loving - _no he didn't!_ Gary and the other man explaining the situation and his condition, he felt less desperate to be with the other man before he had managed to clean himself. He still wanted to see the man, don't get him wrong, but he definitely needed a shower first, that was for sure. And something to eat, fuck he hadn't noticed before, but he suddenly realised that he was bloody starving. He hadn't eaten anything in weeks, but then the guilt hit him. Gary was fucking force fed, so what right did he have to bloody be able to eat properly when the kid couldn't? And he knew the kid would never look at food again in the same way, because he'd said so himself.

 _Fucking hell._

He didn't know what to do. Why should he be alright if Gary wasn't? It wasn't fair. This whole fucking thing wasn't fair. Fuck, he needed to distract himself.

"Is that all?"

"Hmm." The Doctor looked up from where he had started to check everything was okay with him. "Well, there was some swelling on and in his head, and signs of concussion which we will need to keep a close eye on. And also the malnutrition - you've both lost a fair bit of weight." The man prodded his arm as if to demonstrate.

"Fuck."

 _Hadn't even thought about that, that's going to be a bitch to gain again in muscle. Bloody hell. Why the hell am i even worried about fucking muscle mass whilst he could fucking die anyway? What a fucking selfish git I am._

"It will be a while before he is mobile again, this will significantly impact his mental state also. You need to be prepared, this will not make him exactly pleasant at times, you should expect: mood swings, tantrums, anxiety and a lot of anger and frustration. All understandable, given the circumstances. Just be prepared and try not to lose it too badly - he'll probably be relying on you perpetually just to get through the day. This is often the case when two people are incarcerated for a long period of time together. "

"Yeah, I know."

Suddenly he found himself wondering whether it would have been better for them to both had died in there. The fight and constant pain was far from over, he was sure.

"I am sure you do. In any case, your vitals look good, still very dehydrated and some nasty marks but given time and plenty of replenishment, you'll be back to normal."

"Told you, can i go now?" He hoped the man would forget about him eating something, but he was doubtful he would.

"You need to eat first."

Damn.

"How about I shower and get cleaned up, then i eat in Gary's room?"

The other man looked at him doubtfully for a minute before sighing in defeat. He hoped that meant the man was willing to relent. After his previous train of thoughts, he really did not feel like eating right now.

"Fine. But i will be checking on the both of you regularly, so you'd better stick to your word Simon."

 _Yes! Wow. Bloody hell, I sound like a teenage girl whose exited to see whatever prissy boy singer is todays gimmick. Though, i think Gary's better than that Beaver bloke, and i have a good bloody reason too so they can shove it up theirs if any has something to say._

"Thank you." he finally settled on replying to the Doc after a few seconds of contemplation, whose name he still couldn't quite remember.

"You're welcome, just look after yourself, yeah? Don't want to see you in this bed again" he paused for a second then smirked "- you're a right pain in the ass."

At that he actually laughed, "Thanks mate."

"It's Jefferson, by the way."

Fuck, now he remembered - the doctor whom he had told to fuck off after he got shot a while back and claimed he was fine. Needless to say, a few hours later he passed out in the middle of the room. _Oops._

"Heh. Sorry, forgot. You're snarkiness makes sense now though."

"Hilarious." He dead-panned. Though Simon could detect a small smile behind the man's sarcastic demeanour. "You are free to leave now, then."

"Thanks." He got up, albeit slowly, remembering what had happened last time he had tried to leave. He didn't want anything stopping him now. Luckily now the dizziness wasn't as bad and he could hide it. Walking again felt weird though. "Bye."

"Yes. Bye, for the moment."

XXX

He finally made it to his and Gary's shared quarters to grab his razor and some clean clothes. It took him longer than he'd admit to get there though, but at least he hadn't forgotten the way.

Grabbing the items from where he had last placed them, he quickly hurried to the shower room, hoping desperately that it was empty.

 _Hell, maybe i should have showered in the hospital wing, least i would've been guaranteed some privacy - they're terrified of me mostly._

But he couldn't be bothered going back the other way now, he wanted to feel clean. How the hell was Gary going to deal with showering with people around now? He found himself wondering.

 _You bloody idiot, the bloke can't even walk, i doubt he'll be showering properly for a while - poor sod. Someone will have to help the kid, that would be humiliating to any man. I mean I could help him, I wouldn't mind... What the fuck Simon!? What the hell is wrong with you, why the hell are you thinking about washing another man, for bloody sakes._

He sighed in frustration, what the hell was going on with him lately, he felt so conflicted. He was starting to wonder whether there was another reason why he wanted to look out for Gary so much.

Finally he made it to the showers, and to his utter relief they were empty too. He was shocked, it wasn't like him or his luck threshold to have things go his way. So he quickly locked the door behind him before anyone could come in, like MacTavish would tell him off anyway. Bloke would understand his need for privacy. Hell, all of them probably would.

He made his way over to the bench and mirror next to the showers, stripping his clothes off slowly - the fatigue and lethargy was starting to set in, but he chose to ignore that. For the first time in weeks he saw himself in the mirror, and what he saw was not what he expected. He looked tired and ragged - you could definitely tell he hadn't washed in a good while. He was filthy, from head to toe - it reminded him of a Christmas song that he remembered from years ago; something about being covered in soot after falling down a chimney. he hated Christmas. And, he felt like he had both these things done to his body - not that that was relevant he mused.

He could also see the difference in his frame - what was once completely solid and bulky, was now still mostly solid but there was definitely not the same level of bulk as before. He wouldn't say he looked entirely weedy, but he was still not what he was happy with himself at all. Then there was his face. God, he looked like he'd aged 20 years, and that was just his eyes. What were once bright and sharp where now dull and exhausted, surrounded by black bags that reminded him of a panda. A dead panda.

The beard didn't help any, that would definitely be the first thing he fixed, he hated it - reminded him of the filthy people he'd seen in his lifetime. If he didn't want to get this shit off him so badly he would have shaved before his shower - also, he hated shaving before having a shower. He stepped into the shower, and turned it on.

At first the water felt good, though a very drastic change to what his body had gotten use to. He felt that with every bit of dirt that was washed away, so was a bit of his tension and stress. He could feel the now brown water dripping off of him loudly, and he suddenly realised it reminded him of the water that dripping from the taps and Gary in that god forsaken bathroom.

 _Drip, drip, drip..._

Suddenly it all started flashing before his eyes; them turning the tap on Gary, the terrified look in the poor kids eyes, them starting to electrocute him and Gary's blood curling screams of excruciating pain, his own screams of anger and bloody murder towards the fucking Russians.

 _Drip, drip, drip..._

The sound of the water hitting the floor from the leaky tap whilst they continued this exercise and even when they'd finished... He could feel his chest tightening, and he suddenly felt himself hyperventilating. The images wouldn't get the fuck out of his head and he just wanted it to stop, he wanted the fear and guilt to stop, but it just wouldn't.

 _Drip, drip, drip..._

He could hear the screams so clearly now, like they were in the same room again. He felt like he was back in that room and was being restrained again, he felt so helpless and so much like everything was out of control. He felt the chaos that went through his mind when he was actually there. But he knew he wasn't there any more, he wasn't. He kept trying to tell himself that. He wasn't there any more, they were safe - Gary was safe!

He abruptly realised that it was himself screaming - it was his own screams, not Gary's. The dripping sound wasn't from a leaky tap, it was from the powerful shower he was now sitting on the ground in. There was nothing there restraining him but his own mind and fears, and he didn't have to kill those men any more, because they were already dead. They were safe.

His breathing started to normalise as his thoughts were becoming more rational. He was in the shower back at base, Gary was also back at base. They weren't in that hell any more and it was all okay for now.

 _Gary is okay, Gary is okay..._

He was starting to calm down now, he was starting to get control back in his body. He could move again and most importantly he could breathe.

"Holy shite."

He realised what had just happened: he'd had a fucking panic attack over a fucking shower. God, he'd never live this one down, he just hoped to hell that no one heard him screaming. He would hope to God, but Hell was the only thing he was sure really existed any more.

"Fuck!"

He so desperately wanted to get out of the shower now and go and see the kid, to put his bad thoughts to rest. But every single bit of his will power told him - forced him, to stay, or people would notice. He wasn't clean yet, he had to finish.

It was fucking difficult, but eventually he managed to get himself clean in that fucking shower without passing out. He didn't know how the hell he managed it, but somehow he did. Now all he had to do was get rid of the fucking beard and he could see Gary and it'd all be okay.

 _I sound bloody hysterical right now, not to mention obsessed over the kid, but I just need to see him. Besides, nothing in my mind is rational anyway. Not any more. One doesn't go through watching your best friend almost die and not worry about them, right? That's completely normal._

XXX

He was finally making his way back to infirmary after managing to get clean, he felt so much better despite the previous escapade, although he was fucking exhausted. Felt like he hadn't slept in years, not that he felt he'd have much success if he tried.

His face felt normal and not so itchy any more, and his clothes didn't smell like they had become a makeshift latrine. He hated how they were just that bit looser on him now though, so he wore a jumper to hide his self consciousness. Not that it was cold at all, but after being in that glacier he had been stuck in, the extra heat felt magnificent which was another bonus to hiding himself.

He was anxious to see Gary for himself, with his injuries. Last he had seen the Sergeant, it had all been a big blur, and after hearing what was wrong with the man medically, he was kind of unsure what he would find.

What he did find when he walked through those daunting metal double doors, however, was worse than even he was expecting. Gary was pale - really pale. Not that you could see much of his skin, there were tubes, wires and bandages everywhere; he really was a mess. The worst part was, he knew how every single wound was inflicted, and every time he saw the area of his body, he couldn't get the images of watching it out of his head. He almost couldn't bear it, but he couldn't leave him and the fear of leaving him out weighed the guilt and memories from looking at him.

He grabbed a shitty plastic chair from against the wall and moved it next to the Sergeant and hesitantly sat down. Looking back at the younger man, he suddenly didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to talk to the kid, or just sit there? When would he wake up? Would he want him there when he woke up? Would he panic? So many thoughts were going through his mind and he couldn't help but feel stress and panic wash over himself. He rubbed his calloused hands over his face in exhaustion.

"Fuck, Simon calm the fuck down." he muttered to himself.

He really did need to, for Gary's sake.

Sighing for what felt like the millionth time, not knowing what else to do, he grabbed Gary's hand loosely and held it in his own. He hoped dearly that no one would walk in on this, but he was at a loss of what to do, and it somehow just seemed right. That didn't make him weird, right?

Besides, they'd been forced to do more intimate things to survive anyway, this was nothing.

Looking at the kids face, he just felt awful. He was barely recognisable - he was gaunt looking and pale, and he looked more like a dead panda than he did he smirked to himself. He had some nasty looking what would soon be scars too, he hoped the kid could deal with that. The constant reminder. No, Gary would. He would make sure the kid got through it even if it killed him in the process.

"I'm sorry mate." he mumbled quietly.

He vaguely wondered where the doctor was, he said he'd be here soon enough, and he hadn't eaten yet which he was bound to get in more trouble for. Though, he suspected Jeff knew that he needed some time alone with Gary to put his mind at ease. Maybe the old fart wasn't as bad as he thought.

 _Who knows?_

A lot of thoughts were running through his mind, and he soon found himself starting to fall asleep in the chair. The sleep was definitely welcome.

Lucky for him, his sleep consisted of very strange things like men in dresses and strange people doing strange things, much like what happened in your dreams after taking medication or whilst being pumped with some kind of painkiller. He assumed that they must have given him something when he'd been asleep previously. He wasn't sure if he was thankful or annoyed that no one told him or asked his permission.

But he was abruptly shaken awake by a sudden, harsh movement next to him.

 _Gary!_

He shot up to see what was happening, but he wasn't expecting to see the absolute fear and agony in the young Sergeants face. His dark brown eyes were wide - almost wild looking. His breathing was erratic and uneven - very similar to how his had been earlier that day in the shower, and he was thrashing. Though his movements were sluggish and slow, he could tell the other man felt restrained and unsure of where he was. He soon realised that the kid was panicking about something. He didn't blame him, but he needed to calm down before he hurt himself more.

"Gary! Mate calm down, it's me, calm down!"

But that didn't work, he didn't even seem to recognise his voice - it just made him panic more.

"Please, mate - listen!"

he tried again, trying to sound calm with each attempt, but he wasn't. Not at all, he was terrified of not knowing what to do. Gary just started trying to say something, but he couldn't because of the burns to his throat.

He tried to touch him to get his attention so he could make the kid recognise him, but he wasn't expecting the reaction he got.

"No, No!" Gary barely made out through the pain, hissing and jerking away from his hand. "Don't touch me!"

That shocked him.

It barely sounded like those words because they were rasped and slurred, but Simon knew, he just knew that it was what the kid had said, sadly. Honestly, it hurt. Gary was afraid of him. That made him wonder, of the very few times they had been separated, what had those bastards done to him?

He had no idea what to do, the machines around him were beeping furiously, and he could hear several alarms going off. Fucked if he knew what it was, all he knew was it wasn't good at all. He needed to do something, yet again he was useless.

"Gary!" he kept trying but nothing was working, he only seemed to exacerbate the man's fear until he started screaming. That certainly wasn't good.

Suddenly the heavy doors burst open, and several medical personnel came rushing in, in a hurry. They looked at him and asked what happened before hurrying to try and sort out the distraught young man.

"He just woke up and started panicking, I don't know what happened - he doesn't recognise any thing and he's terrified." he replied, giving his "professional" opinion.

"Highly likely."

One of them replied, "We'll have to sedate him, give him something that will keep him calm."

He went and grabbed something, pouring it into a syringe and came back over, ready to sedate Gary.

"You'll need to move, please." He honestly couldn't even tell if the bloke was an arse of he was just trying to control the situation. But he didn't want to move, though somehow he felt it wouldn't look to good if he didn't. After a few seconds, he hesitantly relented and moved further back into the room, watching them closely for any signs of malpractice. He really didn't trust anyone any more, especially not with his Gary.

 _Fuckkkkkk! There i go with the fucking "my Gary" again, bloody imbecile, what they hell is wrong with me?_

He groaned at himself for being such an idiot, he was so sick of this. He was sick of his thoughts, he was sick of being useless and he was sick of this lack of fucking control. He just wanted to scream and throw things again, it seemed like the only thing that could help. Remembering his promise to the Doc though, he instead chose to just sit down and avoid making a scene.

 _Fuck!_

After a few seconds, the thrashing and the screams finally began to subside, leaving a panting and sweaty looking Gary. Whatever they had given him certainly worked. Within a few more seconds, Sanderson was unconscious again, leaving only silence in the echoey white room. The only vestige of the previous cacophony being the desperate pleas Gary had made for him to not touch him ringing and replaying over and over in his ears.

What a mess.

 **There It is! I do hope it was okay and you still come back for more! because there will be plenty more...**


	11. The Calm Before The Storm

**_A/N: Hi all,_**

 ** _Well... this chapter certainly isn't one of my best, but the chapter title is The Calm Before The Storm for a reason... hint hint. It's probably a tad boring, and i'm very sorry to disappoint, but the characters are not yet in a setting to write either angst or drama, so yeah. This is kind of a filler, but it also goes into detail about the sort of stuff Gary and Simon will be dealing with later on too. Not yet sure whether or not to add a bit off "fluff" between the two later on - in between the heavy shit, so opinions are always welcome._**

 ** _Please let me know what you think, and as always, please enjoy._**

 ** _Thanks!_**

 _SGT. GARY_ _" ROACH" SANDERSON_

 _LOCATION: CLASSIFIED_

 _DATE: JANUARY 18_ _TH_ _, 2015_

 _TIME: 1509 HRS_

 _STATUS: RECOVERED_

He felt like he was floating, everything felt so surreal. Like he wasn't alive, yet he knew he wasn't dead. He could _feel_ that he wasn't dead.

He didn't know where he was, when he'd woken up - he assumed that he was now unconscious because of the floating feeling and lack of any other pain, he had felt everything and he didn't recognise anything. It was terrifying. Gary had long since grown accustomed to waking up in the dark against Simon, he knew he would be relatively safe until he left that horrible room. He knew in that dark room, he couldn't pretend it all wasn't real because he couldn't see anything, he couldn't see the demons he pretended weren't there. He liked the dark, the light terrified him - it also reminded him of all the things they had done. _That room…_

That's why he had panicked earlier, it was different than he expected, he didn't like change - was truly a creature of habit. He had been terrified and didn't know what room he was in. He needed to figure out where he was, he didn't want to have an episode like last time - it hurt.

Well, he felt something soft under him, and the position he had woken up in didn't indicate that the bastards were up to something sinister at the very moment at least. Last he had remembered was that weird office room, the countdown, the pain…

He was now borderline conscious, so he could vaguely feel and hear things. He didn't want to open his eyes until he felt he had some control or idea of what was going on. Unfortunately though, now that he was more awake, it also meant he could feel the pain - though now it was only a dull throbbing pain at the moment which was unusual. The Russians usually made a point of being as rough and hurtful as possible, and usually they made Simon watch too - _apart from the one time…_

 _Eughh._

He didn't want to think about that right now, though the room kinda did remind him of it. It was white, like a hospital, with florescent lights above from what he had remembered from his panicked state. Honestly, he hadn't noticed much but the fear at the time, regretfully. That white room was the one place he had woken up without Simon there, and it had terrified him the way waking up previously had just made him react. But then he remembered someone calling his name, trying to get his attention.

At first he thought it was a cruel mind trick or illusion being played by the Russians to wake him up so they could have their fun in his expense, but now he wasn't so sure. It didn't sound like them speaking, he wished he'd paid more attention to who It was before. He tried desperately to bring back the memories to try and piece it all together, but he just went blank. Not being able to remember things sucked.

He supposed he should just suck it up and open his eyes to put his curiosity at rest, but it was easier said than done. He was terrified of what they would do to him if they knew he was awake. They could only hurt him if he was awake because they wanted him to feel the pain.

But then he heard a noise, it sounded like a bang and it made him jump, they'd surely know that he wasn't asleep now.

That brought back something that distracted him though, a bang… suddenly he could remember a loud bang so clearly, followed by a splattering sound and a fuck tonne of pain. A gun shot… he got shot?

 _Wait… I did get shot, I fucking remember now! Shit, but wait, there was another shot… and someone else was there that I know. Wait, there was a helicopter and who was it… fuck I cant remember, shit! But Simon was there, what does that mean? Where the hell am I now? Did they find us? Shit…_

The plethora of thoughts running round his head just kept spinning out of control, he couldn't quite get a clear picture of what happened, but he could vaguely hear someone saying something now. Where they talking to him?

"Ary…"

 _Huh?_

"Gary!"

Oh they were talking to him, he was Gary right?

"Gary, open your eyes mate."

Mate? Who was it, they sounded familiar… Ghost! Simon! Simon was there, that meant everything was ok, right? He should probably do as the other man said though, he trusted Simon and what he told him to do.

Though he still felt as if he was floating, he tried desperately to open his eyes. His world was spinning, but he knew he had to wake up soon. All that was keeping him grounded was a warmth in his hand, it felt odd but comforting, what was that? He wanted to find out.

As soon as he finally managed to get his eyes open however, he regretted it. The bright lights were sharp and they blinded him. It hurt his now pounding head, and he felt more dizzy - like he needed to vomit. He hissed and went to grab his head in a futile attempt to help placate the pain, but that was a bad idea. The movement aggravated his still tender injuries, and the hissing tore at his badly burnt throat. Fuck it hurt.

He was sure he blacked out from the pain for a minute, but he could feel something warm on his shoulder that gave him an escape from the haze. What was that?

Opening his eyes slowly again, he found It wasn't so painful this time - it still hurt but the pain was bearable now, and the nauseating feeling wasn't so bad if he didn't move.

He now noticed that the warmth was a heavily scared and rough skinned hand on his shoulder. He followed the arm attached to find a rather worried appearing Simon at the other end, looking at him with concern and another level of intensity he couldn't quite define. The man looked pale and unwell, but clean. Cleaner than he should be. But then it hit him, if Simon were there and he was cleaned up, did that mean they were safe? He had to ask.

"Ar-"

He trailed off, coughing and wincing from the immediate pain and burning feeling that wouldn't go away in his throat. Fuck, he couldn't fucking talk. That fucking sucked. Again trying to palliate the pain, he dragged a hand to his throat. His arm felt heavy.

"Oi, mate, don't talk." the older man patted his shoulder supportingly, though his tone was stern.

 _No shit._

"Good to see you alive and awake too."

He just nodded, not being able to verbally respond. _Would I rather be alive and awake right now?_ He wasn't too sure.

He looked around in curiosity, to see if he could figure out where they were, but his mind was too foggy to fathom anything as known in his head. Plus, he couldn't move much more than his eyes, so a load of good that did him. And god he was tired. But how long had he already been out for?

"We're back at base, MacTavish finally found our arses - you're pretty buggered up, I'm not goin' to lie Sanderson."

 _Sanderson? Huh? Since when does Simon refer to me that formally as of late?_

Part of him was a little hurt by the lack of "compassion", but the other part of him wondered why he even cared and scolded himself for being such a little bitch over nothing. Instead of thinking any more about these stupid thoughts, he just nodded again.

"Do you want some water?"

 _Water? God cold water sounds good. Well, not in a bath or shower, but to drink because my fucking throat burns. Actually I think I hate water, but anything to get rid of this fucking pain._

He nodded vehemently - well as vehemently as his injuries would allow. Simon quickly left to grab a cup of water for Gary, whilst he just looked around as far as his eyes could see. The lack of mobility he had from pain and injury bandages or whatnot was really starting to bother him. The room really did bloody remind him of that bloody white room they put him in for days, it made him shiver. He wanted desperately to get the fuck out already. He wondered how long it would be until he could leave.

 _Bollocks. How can I even ask if I cant even bloody talk?_

Simon walked back through the door with the water, promptly sitting back down next to him, handing the plastic cup to him. Only problem was, when he went to grab the cup his hand shook and he couldn't even hold it. After spilling a few drops, the other man quickly grabbed his hand and the cup again in support. Funny, usually the physical contact made him feel uncomfortable and he'd flinch away - especially after that month or so from hell. He'd lost count on the days. He somewhat wondered why the contact made him feel weird, and the other man's hand was warm and supportive. It felt… nice?

 _What the fuck, Gary? Not only are you fucking humiliating yourself by being useless and not even being able to hold a fucking cup on your own, you also have to be losing your bloody mind with this poncey fucking thoughts. Great! Just great._

"Sor-" he tried to mumble, screwing his face up in relinquishment of the words because of the pain.

"Don't be. I'll get you a straw next time, but 'ere."

The other man lifted both Gary's hands and the cup to Gary's own lips so he could sip it. He idly wondered why the other man was bothering to be so kind. However, now he really did feel uncomfortable - not from the contact per se, on the contrary, it was more because the contact wasn't bothering him, still. Also, it was demeaning having to be hydrated by another man and he felt both humiliated and rather otiose by the actions.

Either way, both feelings were silenced after the clean, cold water hit his throat - god it felt good. His throat definitely felt a bit better now, albeit not much.

"Thanks."

He managed to rasp once the water was all gone, he could talk somewhat now without it hurting so bad. The feeling still sucked a lot though.

"You're welcome, and…" the other man hesitated for a moment, "don't feel bad for needing help. 'Ave a feelin' you do by that look on your face."

"wouldn't you?"

"Hmm, fair point well made. But, thing is, you're goin' to need a lot of help."

"Yay…"

"Heh. You know…" Suddenly the other man looked uncomfortable and fidgeted for a minute before continuing. "You know im here for you, yeah? If ya ever need anythin' or help. I'm here, and I wont judge ya, just in case you're not comfortable with anyone else helping. You can come to me about anything and I'll do my bloody best to help."

 _What the hell?_

Gary certainly wasn't expecting that particular out burst - being told he was a disappointment and failure yes, support no. He didn't know how to respond, he appreciated that a lot though. Now thinking about it, he didn't really feel comfortable even being in company of anyone but Simon right now. He was fucking glad the bloke cared.

 _Wait, does he care? Why?_

"Thanks, but why?"

It was somewhat raspy and incoherent, but he got the words out, painfully.

"Why? Bloody hell, thought that was obvious. Didn't go through all that blimen effort to keep you alive for nothing. You're one of my Sergeants, it's my job to look out for ya, and also - and don't tell no one this, but I care about you mate. I've been through this before, and trust me, it sucks. But I don't want to see you going through what I did because I was an idiot, I want to help you. The people around me helped me the most, and now I want to help you get through this shite. Plus, I was there for most of it, you don't need to repeat things to me so I understand."

"I 'preciate it." he added a small smile to appear more sincere as it still hurt to talk too much.

"You better." the other man joked.

"How long do I have to-"

"You're pretty bodged up mate, it's goin' to be a while im afraid."

"So am I…" he mumbled quietly, he wasn't sure if the other man heard it or not. He hated to admit it, but after being locked in that room, he officially hated hospitals. And the colour white. Was white even a colour? He didn't give a shit what it was, he just hated it. Reminded him of that deafening silence, and the hallucinations that felt so real that were probably exacerbated by his already prevalent fatigue. Every time he turned around, he expected to see something or something jumping out at him, ready to do inhumane things to him, and he was suddenly starting to struggle to keep his calm.

 _No! I cant lose my shit, im safe, Simon's here, it's not that room, it isn't!_

"What's this about a room?"

Oh shit, the mumbling thing. Fuck, should he tell Simon the truth? Should he lie? Gary didn't know what to do.

"It's ah, it's nothin', don'wrry." He slurred the last bit.

"Doesn't seem like nothing, if it's got you this worked up. You said something about it being… white?"

He sighed, not really wanting to discuss it, but did he really have a choice? Probably, but knowing Simon he wouldn't drop it until he spilt.

"White room - was white."

""What?"

"It's nothin', m'just tired."

He lied, desperately trying to avoid an explanation. Simon sighed next to him, he looked deep in thought.

"Was this for those few days or so when we were separated?"

Gary nodded, hesitantly. "Alright, get some rest mate. I'll be here when you wake up."

He smiled weakly at the other man, he did appreciate that. He would never say it out loud that he needed someone - well not just any person, but he was still incomplete denial of who so he wouldn't have to worry about what the hell he was feeling. Although somehow Simon knew - he did not want to wake up alone. Not in a white room. How he knew? Gary didn't care, he was just glad.

 _LT. SIMON_ _"GHOST" RILEY_

 _Location: Classified_

 _Date: JANUARY 18_ _th_ _, 2015_

 _Time: 1537 HRS_

 _Status: ACTIVE_

 _A white room?_

He thought to himself whilst studying the young man's face, curious. He had been thinking about this since the Sergeant had fallen back asleep. What could that mean, was it like a bathroom? With tiles, or a hospital? That would explain his reaction to waking up the first time here. A white room? That was perplexing to say the least.

Then his thoughts turned darker, as dark as the bags under the kids eyes that didn't belong there.

 _Did they do something bad to him in a white room? He did seem particularly distressed thinking about it, maybe it was some form of psychological fuckery they tried. Wouldn't put it past the bastards. But a white room? I've never heard of that one. I'll have to search it up._

The doors abruptly burst open, not for the first time. They revealed the doctor from before - _Jefferson!_ He'd have to stop forgetting that one if he wanted to get things his own way, be the perfect sycophantic patient and all that.

"Afternoon, Simon."

He nodded politely in response, not feeling like talking. He was probably here to check on Roach. Wait a minute...

 _Heh, maybe he'd know what that meant._ He decided to ask.

"What do the words ' _white room'_ mean to you?"

"White room?"

"Yes." the man looked slightly confused at this particular question.

"In what context?"

C _ant he bloody guess?_ But he answered politely anyway.

"Gary kept mumbling something about a white room, didn't particularly seem to care for the thought neither. Was rather disturbed."

The other man thought for a second, then an imaginary light bulb seemed to go off above his head because a look of knowledge and wisdom appeared in the old man's eyes.

"Ah. I have an epiphany, though I cannot be certain. I may or may not recall reading something about a completely white room, used to torment and cause hallucinations in prisoners. Bastards supposed it would get them the information they needed or it'd send the victim to the loony bin. You'd have to research it a bit more, but it seems plausible that Gary has suffered through this, though, has he made any signs or mentions of this prior to today?"

Simon though about that one for a minute, had he? He definitely hadn't been the same once they were reunited in that hell hole, that's for sure. And they hadn't really seen light whilst in any other room since those days…

"Maybe. But he hasn't been exposed to white light since, could that suppress temporarily the effects or symptoms from being exposed to such a thing?" Was that even possible?

"Entirely possible. You've got to expect the worst, to be honest Simon. We've just brushed the surface on the psychological damage done, and now, at every twist and turn you both face - there will be things that you wont expect that will need dealing with. It would be prudent to endeavour to find out just what. Along with the physical damage, it's going to take it's sweet time getting back to full health - if ever."

 _Figures. But what If he's never alright again? Shut up Simon, you cant afford to think like that - besides, you've been through this before, you were alright after a while, he'll be fine. Once the kid can do things for himself again, he'll start feeling better and he can start dealing with shit. But how long will that be?_

"How long until he can move around?"

The other man looked hesitant to answer, even a bit unsure. "It's hard to say. It completely depends on his pain threshold and how prepared he is to get better himself. His leg, hip, ribs and bullet wound, as well as general lethargy are his biggest challenge in the mobility department currently."

 _Poor sod._

Nodding, he looked back down at the sleeping figure next to him, It made him angry seeing him like this, he felt useless because he couldn't help. The urge to throw things around again was making itself known, but he couldn't.. could he? No! He couldn't.

Thinking about what the man had just told him, he decided look up this "white room" shit to distract himself. Least it made him feel like he was doing something to help, plus with a distraction he could completely deny that there was anything wrong with himself.

"I'm going to grab my laptop to look this shite up. I'll be back in a sec, told 'im I would be here when he woke up, and I'd like to stick to my word."

"Rightio, I shouldn't be too long here - should you prefer some privacy."

Nodding and muttering a somewhat understandable thanks, he got up and left in a hurry, anxious to get back to his friend. But he needed to know what the kid had been put through, even if he was being obsessive. He deserved the right to be a bit obsessive though, right? Yeah! It wasn't anything more than just trying to deal with the situation, this fixation with Gary's health, right?

Reaching their quarters, he grabbed the laptop he was so familiar with and quickly headed back the way he came, thinking about what he would find. He could imagine, and what he could think of was nothing good, but he questioned the veracity of his own surmising.

 _Then again, when am I ever wrong?_

* * *

Reaching the infirmary, he sat down again, opening the laptop. He was somewhat grateful that the Doctor had left the room already.

"Right. What do I search? Let's see…"

"White room, white room… shit"

Simon was angry - livid at what he found. How dare these bastards do this… how dare they do anything to his bloody Gary? And what was this shit with "His Gary", bloody hell he had to stop thinking that.

 _He's not your bloody Gary, Simon. But do I want him to be? WHAT THE FUCK!? holy crap, im insane - of course I don't bloody want him like that. I need to get back to what I was doing, bloody hell._

The web page finally loaded, revealing what he dreaded.

"White torture is a type of psychological torture that includes extreme sensory deprivation and isolation. Carrying out this type of torture makes the detainee lose personal identity through long periods of isolation." he mumbled as he read the screen.

What the fuck, they _were_ trying to mind fuck him.

"It induces insanity, hallucination, sensory deprivation, and long term affects without lifting a single finger… form of mental affliction, It eventually drives them mad… What fucking long term affects does it cause though? The room was completely white, clothes are white, and the food is white rice… everything is silent, blah blah blah. Fuck."

He could see why the kid was freaked out by the hospital he woke up in now, he fucking would have too. He couldn't believe that these bastards had tried this, and he didn't even know about it. How could he even fix this? Did the kid hallucinate? Was Gary suffering from this bloody torture method without him even knowing?

He looked at the sleeping form of Gary. "Shit, what do we do with you mate?"

 _SGT. GARY_ _" ROACH" SANDERSON_

 _LOCATION: CLASSIFIED_

 _DATE: JANUARY 18_ _TH_ _, 2015_

 _TIME: 2129 HRS_

 _STATUS: RECOVERED_

 _He was being dragged through the hallway as usual, but this time Simon wasn't with him. He already didn't like this, he didn't like being away from Simon because it meant he was alone._

 _W_ _hen they finally reached the destination and they entered a room, he was shocked._ _E_ _verything was white, and there were no windows or anything._ _I_ _t was just white, like a blanket of snow over the ground after a long winter. Though, for some reason he would rather be outside in the snow than here in this empty room._

 _Suddenly he found that they were stripping him of all his clothes, until he was completely naked and exposed, he did not like that at all._ _H_ _e needed to be covered up. The feeling of being at the mercy whilst being fully_ _uncover_ _ed to your enemy, that terrified him. He just wanted to get away and hide, he felt dirty and humiliated._

 _They pushed him further into the room, shoving him over into the very white ground. He tried desperately to keep himself covered to retain some dignity._ _I_ _t was futile, just like his clothes; it was all but stripped away from him._

 _They shut the door behind them - shock, horror, that was bloody white as well._ _G_ _od, he was sure he'd have nightmare about this one. Dark thoughts about something so light, how ironic._

 _It was so white, it made him so uncomfortable, he didn't know what to do, were they going to leave him like that? O_ _h god, he wanted to hide away._ _B_ _ut there was nowhere he could go._

* * *

 _After they had left Gary there for a while, I_ _t felt like days had passed, but it was probably just hours, or even minutes._ _H_ _e couldn't be sure. Everything was so white and nothing was making sense any more. He couldn't determine whether the isolation from those bastards was a good thing, or the isolation from any human contact was driving him insane._ _P_ _robably the latter._ _B_ _ut the longer he stayed in there, the more he swore he could hear voices, though there was no one there._ _B_ _ut each passing second, the mental affliction was becoming more and more maddening, it was almost_ _unbearable_ _now._ _T_ _he voices were also getting louder and louder._

" _Gary…"_

 _W_ _hat?_ _W_ _ho was that?_ _I_ _t sounded so familiar, he'd definitely heard that voice somewhere before._

" _I'm going to find you…"_

" _who is that?" he called, fear coursing through his veins like a drug._

" _You don't remember, Gary?"_

 _After a short while, h_ _e soon did remember, and that's why he wanted the voice to go away so badly. That voice could never mean anything good._ _T_ _hough, he knew it wasn't real - it couldn't be real, could it?_

" _Go away!" he yelled, hoping that if it was all in his mind then the person would listen._

" _I'm going to kill them all, Gary!_ _E_ _veryone you care about!"_

 _He wasn't sure if that was being said currently, or a memory, but he couldn't let them die. He couldn't let Simon die, because that's who they meant, right? Simon was the only friend he had, so they must have. He had to fight it._

" _No!_ _Y_ _ou're not real!_ _L_ _eave me alone!" he grabbed his head to block his ears from the noise, to block the voice out._ _H_ _e could still hear it, that meant it wasn't real!_ _I_ _t was in his head, he needed to get it out._

" _Gary!" the voice was louder now, and it hurt._

" _No!" he screamed, at the top of his lungs, still_ _clutching_ _at his head. "Go away!"_

 _He was hysterical, he kept screaming until the voice started to disappear, and he was starting to pass out from insanity._

 _T_ _his game with the voice continued for days, it constantly chasing his every waking minute like a game of cat and mouse. It kept coming after him, and he couldn't get away. He wasn't sure if it was the third or fourth day now, the concept of time just didn't apply when everything was white._

 _By now the voice was so strong he really thought he was going to die, he could see things moving around him, could hear the voice as if someone were standing over him yelling. He opened his eyes, expecting to be alone, but he was met with a figure looming above him, a murderous look in his eyes._

" _I'm going to kill you, Gary."_

 _T_ _he figure lunged for him, grabbing him and it suddenly turned into something he couldn't describe - it looked like how you would describe the devil or a demon. But he didn't really have time to get a good look, it attacked him, making his heart jump in his chest expecting to die._

" _No!"_

* * *

Suddenly he woke up, terrified.

His eyes shot open, taking in the bright room around him. Holy shit, it was still white, and he couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? He was still there in that room. seconds passed and he felt like he couldn't breathe and the feeling wasn't going away, the fear was still there, gripping tightly at his sore chest. He could hear nothing but his heart beating… but after a few seconds, he thought that he could hear a voice coming from somewhere. It was saying something.

"Gary!"

Shit who was that? It didn't sound like the evil voice from before. It didn't sound evil, it sounded comforting and familiar. very familiar...

 _Crap, holy shit Gary, get it together!_

Then everything slowly started coming back to him - reality. He remembered that he wasn't there any more, he was back at base. This was the infirmary, not that white room. The voice was Simon, Simon! not… that man's. he was safe. Safe.

Then it dawned on him; he needed Simon. He needed Simon - to be okay.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh goodness, what are these strange feelings both Gary and Simon are feeling... I could never guess... Hope you liked it! Please review and let me know your thoughts!**


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